The DEVIL upon DUN:
OR
The Downfall of the Upstart CHYMIS
Being the Second Edition of a Late SONG: To the Tune of Smoak us, and choak us.
|
MOngst all Professions in the Town,
|
Held most in renown,
|
From th' Sword to the Gown,
|
The upstart Chymist rules the Roast;
|
For He with his Pill
|
Does ev'n what he will,
|
Employing his skill,
|
Good Subjects to kill,
|
That he of his dang'rous Art may boast:
|
O 'tis the Chymist, that man of the fire,
|
Who by his Black Art
|
Does Soul and Body part:
|
He smoaks us, and choaks us,
|
And leaves us like Dun in the mire.
|
And first for the Lawyers, who multiply,
|
That one can scarce lye,
|
And th' other stand by,
|
Five Grains took of th' grand Preparation,
|
Their Bodies will maull,
|
Thin Westminster-Hall,
|
Cease Suits, and give a long Vacation.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
At th' Sessions house he commenc'd his Trade,
|
Where he aloud pray'd
|
For th' King, long he stay'd
|
Not there, being burnt in th' hand
|
To inure him to fire,
|
He proceeded then high'r,
|
Restless in desire,
|
Till he of a Chymist had the Brand.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
As for the Parsons, both Pro and Con,
|
Dispute, and Objection,
|
Can't save them, th' Chymist anon
|
With th' Elixir can soon end the strife,
|
Straight silence them both,
|
Who t' agree are loth,
|
For th' Ginny-pigs sake, though
|
Their quarrels give th' Old Cause new life.
|
Also the Souldier, that man of Arms,
|
Who never fears harms,
|
Nor any fresh alarms,
|
Let this Chymist enter the Field
|
Ev'n with a General,
|
The brav'st Collonel,
|
A Pill, or Sublimate will make them yield.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
Dull Aristotle was an old Fool,
|
For he went to School
|
Instead of the Stool:
|
What he wrote, he stole from Books;
|
This mysterie is such,
|
Say who can too much
|
In it? whose deadly touch,
|
Makes Bum-foder scarce, it who twice brooks?
|
O 'tis the Chymist, that man of the fire,
|
Who by his Black Art
|
Does Soul and Body part:
|
He smoaks us, and choaks us,
|
And leaves us like Dun in the mire.
|
The learned Universities,
|
Ancient as Mince-pies,
|
Say that all are lies,
|
But Emperick-like hee'll make them broil
|
Like Sprats on the cole,
|
Leaving them no soul,
|
But make a deep hole
|
To bury their old heathenish soil.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
Old Physitians never writ
|
Ought of real wit,
|
But what was most fit
|
To be refin'd by th' Chymical Art;
|
Rubarb, Senna, and Drugs
|
Ev'n like to College Mugs,
|
Which the Sophister oft lugs,
|
Nothing comes, but a Metaphysical F---
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
'Gainst Hippocrates and Galen eke,
|
These Saints have a peke,
|
they wrote in Greek;
|
With Learning they'l not trouble the Brain,
|
The Mother-tongue alone
|
Kills dead as a stone;
|
This done with th' fifteenth part of a Grain.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
The College Doctors with great heat,
|
Do very much brow-beat
|
So desp'rate a cheat,
|
Using prov'd methods safe to cure;
|
Yet these Chymists cry,
|
Who dares it deny?
|
At easie rates they'l make all sure.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
If Wife of Husband, or Husband of Wife,
|
By reason of strife
|
Are we'ry, Or Fathers life
|
Hinders th' Heir; his Laboratory
|
Can perform with hast,
|
Without much distast,
|
What Indian poyson cann't supply.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, that man of the fire,
|
Who by his Black Art
|
Does Soul and Body part:
|
He smoaks us, and choaks us,
|
And leaves us like Dun in the mire.
|
The learned Chymists we don't decry,
|
Natures Mystery
|
He most faithfully
|
Unlocks: But our upstart Chymists bee
|
A meer mushroom strain,
|
Who give Folks their bain,
|
Very Quacks in grain,
|
They, and the Sextons are in Fee.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
How say y' Sirs, shall these practise then,
|
Very expert men
|
T' kill, Dick, Tom, and Ben?
|
Nay, rather let this Chymical Crew,
|
Be sent to Algier,
|
That Trade may be free'r:
|
They'l outdoe a Navy, give the Devil his due:
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
Then may New Troy with Citizens fill,
|
Being secur'd from ill;
|
Then no printed Bill,
|
No Almanack; no Tradesman's Shop
|
Shall th' Elixir vent,
|
To make Experiment
|
On liege people, killing with one drop.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
Now to conclude, let's merrily sing
|
God bless Our Good KING
|
From the Dragons Sting,
|
Heavens preserve him Ages about:
|
For none of his Foes
|
The Common-weal oppose,
|
As every one knows,
|
By their great hurt, and woes,
|
Than th' Quack and this Chymical Rout.
|
O 'tis the Chymist, etc.
|
|
|
|
|
|