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Why should a Quack be dubb’d, unless it be
That Pois’ning is an Act of Chivalry?
Thus we must own, you have your Thousands ftain
With direful Strokes of
refiftless Pen. By whipping Boys your Cruelty began, And grew, by bolder Steps, to killing Man. Just the Reverse of Dionysius Fate, Who fell to flogging Bums, from murd'ring the State. For both these Trades your Genius far unfit, At length with fawcy Pride aspires to Wit, which by pretending to, you more disgrace, Than coafting Beaus our ancient British Race. I'th' Mountebank the Ass had laid conceal’d. But his loud Braying has the Brute reveal'd. Such vile Heroicks, such unhallow'd Strains, Were never spawn'd before from Irish Brains; Nor drowsy Mum, nor dozing Usquebangh, Could e'er suggest such Lines to Sr. John Daw, You weakly skirmish with the Sins o'th' Age, And are the arrant Scavenger o'th' Stage. Why Virtue makes no Progress now, is plain, Because such Knights as you its Cause maintain. If you'd a Friend to Sense and Virtue be, And to Mankind, for once be rul’d by me, Leave Moralizing, Drugs, and Poetry.
To Dr. Garth, on the fourth Edition of his incom
parable Poem, The Dispensary; occafion'd by Some Lines in the Satyr against Wit.
By Dr. James Drake. BIO
old thy Attempts, in these hard Terms, to raise
In our unfriendly Clime the tender Bays, While Northern Blasts drive from the neighb'ring Flood, And nip the springing Lawrei in the Bud.
On such bleak Paths our prefent Poets tread,
The very Garland withers on each Head.
In vain the Criticks strive to purge the Soil,
Fertile in Weeds, it mocks their busy Toil:
Spontaneous Corps of Fobs and Arthursrife,
Whose tow'ring Nonsense braves the very Skies,
Like Paper-Kites the empty Volumes fly,
And by mere Force of Wind are rais'd on high.
While we did these with stupid Patience spareg.
And from Apollo's Plants withdrew our Care,
Thé Muses Garden did small Product yield,
But Hemp and Hemlock over-ran the Field :
'Tis skilful Garth, with salutary Hand,
Taught us to weed and cure poetick Land;
Grubb'd up the Brakes and Thistles which he found,
And sow'd with Verse and Wit the sacred Ground
But now the Riches of that Soil aprear,
Which four fair Harvests yields in half a Year.
No more let Criticks of the Want complain
Of Mantuan Verse, or the Meonian Strain ;
Above them Garth does on their Shoulders rise,
And what our Language walits his Wič supplies ;
Fam'd Poets afier him fhall strain cheir Throats,
And unfledg’d Muses chirp their Infant Notes.
Yes, Garth, thy Enemies confess thy Store ;
They burst with Envy, yet they long for more :
Ev'n we, thy Friends, in Doubt thy Kindness call,
To see thy Stock so large, and Gift so small,
But Jewels in small Cabinets are laid,
And richest Wines in little Casks convey'd.
Let lumpish B-re his dull Hackney freight;
And break his Back with heavy Folio's Weight;
His Pegasus is of the Flanders Breed,
And limb' for Draught, or Burden, not for Speed.
With Cart-horse Tros, he sweats beneath the Pack
Of Rhiming Prose and Knighthood on his Back..
Made for a Drudge, e'en lec him beat the Road,
And tug of senseless Reams th' heroick Load;
Till, over-strain'd, the Jade is fet, and tires,
And, sinking in the Mud, with Groans expires..?
re shall this Favour owe to thee,
That thou perpetuat'st his Memory.
Bavius and Mevius so their Works survive,
And in one single Line of Virgil's live.
To a Famous Doctor and Poet at SadlersHall.
F Wit (as we are told) be a Disease,
BI -ye alone the healing Secret knows, 'Tis from his Pen the grand Elixir flows.
To the Cheapside Quack ; occasion’d by this Verse
in the Satyr agaiost Wit. 'Who with more Ease can cure, than C-ch kill.
By a Gentleman whom Dr. C-lb-ch bad cur’d
of the Gout. HON
row durft thy railing Mufe, vain Wretch, pretend
In base Lampoons thus to abuse my Whose facred Art has free'd me from
And broke a haughty Tyrant's stubborn Chains ?
Keep off, for if thou com'st within my Clutches,
I'll baste thy Knighthood with my quondam Crucches.
The gen'rous Wine that does my Sorrows drown,
The charming Celia that my Nights does crown,
The manly Pleasuies of the sporting Fields,
The gay Delights the poni pous Drama yields ;
All this, and more, to his great Skill I owe :
Such Bleflings can thy boasted Helps bestow ?
The Snuff of Life, perhaps thy feeble Art
May fondly lengthen to thy Patients Smart ;
But Health 110 more 'tis in thy Pow'r to giveg
Than thy dall Mufe can make her Heroes live.
Ev'n War and Plague of Killing to arraign
In thee, is most nonsensical and vain :
Phee, who a branded Killer art declar'd
In both Capacities of Quack and Bard.
Whatever Sot's to thy Prescriptions fly,
For their vain Confidence, are sure to die ;;
And whate'er Argument thy Muse employs,
Her awkward, stupid Management deftroys.
Death wich sure Steps thy Doles still attends,
And Death too follows whom thy Muse commends.
What can escape thy all-destroying Quill,
When ev'n thy Cordials and thy Praises kill?
Thy Mother, sure, when in Despair and Pain
She brought thee forth, thought of the Murd'rer Cain.
మహిమాన్విత సినిమా సినీమా ఆసని సినిమాని తన To that most incomparable Bard. and Quack, the
Author of the Satyr against Wit,
By Tho. Creach, Esq.
If thou’rt not dead to all Reproof and Shame
Either thy Rhimes or Clyfters to-disclaim.
Both are too much one feeble Brain to rack;
Besides, the Bard will soon undo the Quack.
Such Shoals of Readers thy damn'd Fustian kills,
Thoul't scarce- leave one alive to take thy Pills.
A Merry Ballad on the City Bard.
By the Hon. Richard Norton, Esq;
To a new Playhouse Tune.
N London City, near Cheapside,
A wond'rous Bard does dwell,
Whose Epicks - (if ehey're not bely'd)
Do Virgil's far excel.
A Sprightly Wit and Person join'd,
Both Poet and Physician ;
Areift as famous in his Kind,
For oughr I know, as Titian.
In Coffee-neufes purest Air
His foggy Lines he writes,
In Fields of Duft and Spittle, there
This British Hero fights.
By sudden Motion then o’erta’en,
The Privy-house he chuses ;
Great are his Thoughts, and great his Paill,
And yet no Time he loses.
Grip'd in his Gurs and Muse, he there indites,
And praises Arthur molt, when most he M-
Henrico Higden, Arm.
Cum infæliciter ipfi Comedia cesserit.
Vod inquieta voce - risu, sibilis,
Superba Bruri turba fic exceperit;
Quod purfuratus Infans, Gr vecors Eques,
Summoq; Meretrix in fubfellio fedens,
Totufq; delicatulorum circulus,
In te tuumq; conjuraverint opus :
Nolito in iras irritas erumpere,
Damnare Mufas, increpare Apollinen,
Cælofque votis improbis lacefere.
Quin Drama tandem luce donans publica,
*Invisis orbem, quir, timoris infcius,
Vanas Maligniorum defpicis minas?
Abunde damrum fic resarcies prius,
Fameq; confules ; Lector dabit liben's
Quod improbus spectator abnegaverat.