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EBBA 32609

Huntington Library - Miscellaneous
Ballad XSLT Template
The State Mountebanke.

IF any body politique
Of plenty, or of peace be sick,
Thers a Physitian come to Towne
Of far stretcht fame, and high renown;
Though cald a Mountebanke, tis ment
(Both words being French) a Parliament.
Who from Geneva, and Amsterdam,
From Germany and Scotland came;
Now lies in London, but the place
(If men say true) is in his face.
His Scaffold stands on Tower hill,

Where he on Strafford trid his skill;
Off went his head, youl thinke him slain,
But straight twas voted on again.
Diurnals are his weekly bils
Which shew how many he cures and kils;
But of th Errata weel advise,
For cure read kill, for truth read lies.
If any Traitor be diseasd
With a sore neck, and would be easd,
Here is a pill he cals a Vote,
Take it extempore, twill dot.
If any conscience be too strict,
Heres severall bils from Lectures pickt,
Which swallowd down, will stretch it full
As far as tis from hence to Hul.
Is any by Religion bound,
Or Law? and would be looser found,
Here is a Glyster which we call
His priviledge ore topping all.
Is any mony left, or plate,
Or goods? bringt in at any rate;
Heel melt three shillings into one,
And in a minute leave you none.
Heres powder to inspire your lungs,
Heres water that unties your tongues;
(Spite of the Law) twill set you free,
To speake reason only lispingly.
Heres Leetches, which if well applid,
And fed, stick closely to your side,
Till your superfluous blood deeay,
Then they will breake and drop away.
But heres a soveraigne Antidote
(Be sure your Soveraigne never knowt)
Apply it as your Doctor pleases,
Twill cure all wounds, and all diseases.
A drug none (but himselfe ere saw.
Tis cald a Fundamental Law.
Heres glasses to delude the sight,
Darke lanthornes, here bastard light;
This (if you conquer) trebles men,
(If lose) an hundred seems but ten.
Heres Opium to lull asleep,
And here ly dangerous plots in steep.
Here stands the safety of the City,
There hangs the invisible Committee.
Plundrings the new Philosophers stone,
Turns wares to gold, and gold to none.
And heres an Ordinance that shall
At one full shot enrich us all.
Hes skilled in the Mathematicks,
And with his circles can do tricks,
By raising spirits that can smell
Plots that are hatcht as deep as Hel;
Which only to themselves are known,
(The Divels ever kind tos owne.)
All this he gratis doth, and saith
Heel only take the Publick faith.
Flock to him then, make no delay,
The next fair winde he must away.


Finis.
Oxford, Printed for Wil. Web. 1643.

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