Where he on Strafford tri'd his skill;
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Off went his head, you'l thinke him slain,
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But straight 'twas voted on again.
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Diurnals are his weekly bils
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Which shew how many he cures and kils;
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But of th' Errata wee'l advise,
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For cure read kill, for truth read lies.
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If any Traitor be diseas'd
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With a sore neck, and would be eas'd,
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Here is a pill he cals a Vote,
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Take it extempore, 'twill do't.
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If any conscience be too strict,
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Here's severall bils from Lectures pickt,
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Which swallow'd down, will stretch it full
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As far as 'tis from hence to Hul.
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Is any by Religion bound,
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Or Law? and would be looser found,
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Here is a Glyster which we call
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His priviledge o're topping all.
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Is any mony left or plate,
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Or goods? bring't in at any rate;
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Hee'l melt three shillings into one,
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And in a minute leave you none.
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Here's powder to inspire your lungs,
|
Here's water that unties your tongues;
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(Spite of the Law) 'twill set you free,
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To speake reason only lispingly.
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Here's Leetches, which if well appli'd,
|
And fed, stick closely to your side,
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Till your superfluous blood deeay,
|
Then they will breake and drop away.
|
But here's a soveraigne Antidote
|
(Be sure your Soveraigne never know't)
|
Apply it as your Doctor pleases,
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'Twill cure all wounds, and all diseases.
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A drug none (but himselfe e're saw.
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'Tis cal'd a Fundamental Law.
|
Here's glasses to delude the sight,
|
Darke lanthornes, here bastard light;
|
This (if you conquer) trebles men,
|
(If lose) an hundred seems but ten.
|
Here's Opium to lull asleep,
|
And here ly dangerous plots in steep.
|
Here stands the safety of the City,
|
There hangs the invisible Committee.
|
Plundring's the new Philosophers stone,
|
Turns wares to gold, and gold to none.
|
And here's an Ordinance that shall
|
At one full shot enrich us all.
|
He's 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;
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Which only to themselves are known,
|
(The Divel's ever kind to's owne.)
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All this he gratis doth, and saith
|
Hee'l only take the Publick faith.
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Flock to him then, make no delay,
|
The next fair winde he must away.
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