Canterbury's Potion: WHEREIN Is showed the great Art of his Doctor in finding out the nature of his Disease: TOGETHER With the Medicines he applied, and the strange effects they wrought in him, To the great ease of his surcharged Body, Collected from the Doctors own hand.   portrait of William Laud, archbishop of Canterbury 
Printed in the year 1641.   

CANTERBURIES POTION.  Canterbury. 
GOod Mr. Doctor you are welcome.  Doct. 
I understand by your Gentleman, your Grace was pleased to send for me.  Cant. 
Yes, good Mr. Doctor, and not before I had occasion: for I find myself diseased in all parts; insomuch, that without some speedy remedy, I cannot long continue. I have a great desire to take Physic, me thinks, Mr. Doctor, in case the time of the year be seasonable.  Doct. 
Yes (if it please your grace) the time of the year may be seasonable; but we must have a due care to the constitution of your Lordship's body, the nature of the Malady, and the quality of the Medicine. Our cordial potions, Electuaries, Pills, Losing, Oils, Unguents, Emplasters, Sear , Clysters, Vomits, Supposi●ores, and such like, must be applied according to the state of the Patient's body; and withal, we must be circumspect what Planet is predominant.  Cant. 
Now by St. Augustine, Mr. Doctor, I approve your learned skill, in having respect to the constellations: for I am opinion (though the brethren forsooth call it superstition) that when the sign is in Taurus, if I be let blood in the head, I shall bleed to the death.  Doct. 
That's without question, my Lord, unless your Graces Chyrurgians have a more saving skill then the Lord Deputies had. But I beseech your Grace that I may see your water: for by it I shall easily see the state of your body, and my Physic accordingly.  Cant. 
Reach Mr. Doctor that Urinal; look Sir, this water I made after my first sleep the last night; what do you think of it?  
Faith, my Lord, your water is very gross, heavy, black, dense, solid, and a most impure, putrified and rotten urine. In my opinion (my Lord) your Grace hath kept a very bad diet: There are several raw humours, and unwholesome things, that lie heavy and indigested upon your stomach; and if they be not removed, and that speedily, they will daily offend until they stifle and suffocate your Grace.  Cant. 
Good Mr. Doctor, I beseech you, make experience of your approved Art. For although I own a death, I have no mind to pay it before it be due. If in your power it lieth to prolong my life, let not any cost be spared for the effecting of it.  Doct. 
My Lord, it is within the power of my Art to prolong your life, if it happen not to be cut off untimely: Wherefore I doubt not but to remove these crudities from your stomach; to which purpose I have here a costly vomit, which will undoubtedly remove all the gross matter that is uncocted.  Cant. 
When shall I take it, Mr. Doctor?  Doct. 
Out of hand my Lord: for your Grace is fasting.  Cant. 
First, swallow these three Pills, and then drink this potion, I doubt not but it will work immediately. Well done, my Lord, your grace shall feel the operation of it instantly.  Cant. 
Oh Mr. Doctor, your Physic works most violently, I must vomit already.  Doct. 
Into this Basin, my Lord, up with it: Well done my Lord; see what's here! A great piece of Parchment, and a great Seal to it, I cannot read it. What's this that comes next? A great Roll of Tobacco, pure Spanish. I protest, now I know what the writing was! it was the Patent for it. Had your Grace ever a hand in the Tobacco Patent?  Cant. 
Yes, Master Doctor, I had, but I could never digest it, it hath stuck in my stomach almost this four years, I am glad I am so rid of it, but stay, hold the basin.  Doct. 
What's here, a book? let me see, those that have been at Church, may have liberty to exercise lawful Recreations upon the Sunday, what's the meaning of this my Lord?  Cant. 
'tis a book I made to tolerate pastimes on that day, I am glad 'tis off my stomach, for me thinks I am much eased.  Doct 
I protest another book, the Title is Sunday is no Sabbath, did your Grace cause this book to be made? for 'tis something like the other in matter.  Cant. 
I licenc'd it, but Doctor Pocklington made it.  Doct. 
What? he that looks so like a Necromancer, he that for his pains was preferred besides his benefices? up with it my Lord, what is that? a paper, O 'tis a Starchamber order against Mr. Prinne. Mr. Burton, and Doctor Bastweek, what's the meaning of this, my Lord?  Cant. 
Why, I had a great hand in their business, which is sufficiently apparent to all England, I need not mention it. O here's some other indigested substance which makes my very back ache, if it were up once I should be at great ease.  Doct. 
Here 'tis my Lord, I do not blame you to be troubled, what a bundle of Papers are here, what are these my Lord?  Cant. 
Several papers, as presentations, institutions, inductions, licences, suspensions, degradations, and such like.  Doct. 
I understand you my Lord, these were the instruments wherewith you created your tongue, had Doctors that preached twice a year at least, and in their places hired journey men Curates, who would read a Sermon in the forenoon, and be drunk with their neighbours after dinner, for company, and with some of them, you silenced the long wound Ministers, as you called them, who would preach twice on a Sunday, & may chance at Thursday and Friday Lectures, and hoist into New England. But what in the name of wonder is this, that sticks so strong in your stomach, you labour extremely, heavens send it choke not your Grace. O 'tis up, as I live the new Canons themselves, with that ill favoured monster, and I am hearty glad this is come up, how doth your Grace find yourself? me thinks you look pretty well.  Cant. 
Truly Mr. Doctor, thanks to your great Art I am something better; but stay, here is a greater thing than all the rest, what is it Mr. Doctor? it is up.  Doct. 
As I am here a Drum: I believe this is the Drum that was beaten by the Apprentices in Saint George's fields.  Cant. 
The very same, but I pray Mr. Doctor what was this vomit made of.  Doct. 
There were three scruples of Pillory powder, half a scruple of his brains that looks over London Bridge, three handfuls of the herbs that were gathered by the said Apprentices, wrapped up in a High Commission Roll, and boiled in a Pottle of Holywater to the third part, and then strained through a pair of Lawn sleeves.  Cant. 
Well, if this be your physic Mr. Doctor, I will no more of it; I fear it will make me vomit my heart up, O something comes against my stomach, O it is a Mitre, I had rather have vomited out my heart.  Doct. 
Nay I must be gone if the Mitre come, the Devil is not fare off. Farewell.  
FINIS.