html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }For thy Victorious cares, thy ready heart;
Thy so small tyranny to so much Art;
For visits made to my disease
And me, (Alas) not to my Fees:
For words, so often comforting with scope
Of learned reason, not perswasive hope:
For Med'cines so benigne, as seeme
Cordials for Easterne Queenes that teeme.
For setting now my condemn'd Body free,
From that no God, but Devill Mercurie:
For an assurance, I ne're shall
A forfeit be to'th Admirall;
Like those in Hospitals, who dare presume
To make French Cordage now of English Rhume;
Or slender Ropes, on which, in stead
Of Pearle, revolted Teeth they thred;
For limitting my Cheekes, that else had beene
Swolne like the signe, o'th Head o'th Saracen;
For preservation from a long
Concealement of my Mother-Tongue;
Whilst speechlesse, sow'd in Hoods, I should appeare,
An Antarminian, silenc'd Minister;
Or some Turks poyson'd Mute; so fret
So fome at mouth, make signes, and spet.
Whilst all I eat, goes downe, with lookes to sight
More forc'd, than Quailes t'each full-cramm'd Isralite;
Whose angry swallowing denotes
They lay at Flux, and had sore throats.
For these deliverances, and all the good
My new returne of Senses, strength, and blood,
Shall bring; for all I mine can boast,
Whilst my Endimion is not lost,
By'th feeble influence of my Starre; or turnes
From me, to one whose Planet cleerer burnes;
May (thou safe Lord of Arts) each Spring
Ripe plenty of Diseases bring
Unto the Rich; they still t'our Surgeons be
Experiments, Patients alone to thee:
Health, to the Poore; lest pitty shou'd
(That gently stirs, and rules thy blood)
Tempt thee from wealth, to such as pay like mee
A Verse; then thinke, they give Eternity.