Constantinople was her courtyard. Greece, Egypt, Abyssinia,
Bulgaria, and Muscovy, her ten-acre fields. The Crusaders on their
way to fight the Saracen stopped to plead for her help and generosity.
There were no soldiers more chivalrous, not even the French. There
were no better fighters, not even the Highland clans. Sailors?
You'd think those fellows had invented the sea. And as for riches
and treasures, oh! the wonder of the world she was! Tribute she had
from everywhere; the four great horses of Saint Mark they came from
Constantinople. The two great marble columns facing the Piazetta,
sure, they came from Acre. When foreign powers wanted the loan of
money, it was to Venice they came. Consider the probity of Venetian
men. They once held as pledge the Crown of Thorns itself.
King Louis IX of France redeemed it.

The processions of the tradespeople were like a king's retinue, and
they marching in state on the election of a doge. Each in their
separate order they'd come, the master smiths first, as is right,
every one garlanded like a conqueror, with their banner and their
buglers. The furriers next in ermine and taffeta; the tanners,
with silver cups filled with wine; the tailors in white, with
vermilion stars; the wool-workers, with olive branches; the quilt-
makers in cloaks trimmed with fleur-de-lis; the cloth-of-gold weavers,
with golden crowns set with pearls; the shoemakers in fine silk,
while the silk-workers were in fustian; the cheese-dealers and
pork-butchers in scarlet and purple; the fish-mongers and poulterers,
armed like men-of-war; the glass-makers, with elegant specimens
of their art; the comb-makers, with little birds in cages; the
barber-surgeons on horseback, very dignified, very learned, and
with that you'd think there'd be an end to them, but cast your eye
back on that procession and you'd find guilds as far as your sight