Of a drunken Tobacconist

WHen Marcus hath carrowst March Beere and Sack,
And that his brains grow dizzy therewithall,
Then of Tobacco he a pipe doth lacke,
Of Trinidade in cane, in leafe, or ball,
Which tane a little, he doth spit and smacke,
Then laies him on his bed for feare to fall,
And poore Tobacco beares the name of all.
But that same pipe which Marcus braine did lade.
Was of Medera, not of Trinidade.