Gideon's Fleece: OR, THE SIEUR DE FRISK. AN HEROIC POEM. Written on the cursory perusal of a late Book, called The Conclave of PHYSICIANS. By a Friend to the Muses. — Facit Indignatio versum. LONDON, Printed for Sam. Smith at the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Churchyard, 1684. A PREFACE TO THE READER. Courteous Reader, Coming accidentally to a Friends House in the City, a Worthy Member of the famous College of Physicians in London, among other things, I was entertained with a Book Entitled, The Conclave of Physicians, Written by a Doctor of Paris, and Physician in Ordinary to His Majesty, as he there styles himself. Hearing my Friend read, and perusing it a little, we were both surprised to find a man, that pretended to the highest Degree in Physic, and the umbrage of his Majesty, fall so foul on a Society of Men, that aught to be, ●●…d generally are, men of the best Education, Parts, and Practice in a Nation, founded on his Majesty's Grace, encouraged by his Favour, convened and instituted by Royal Authority, continued, supported, established, and endowed with all the Power and Privilege, the Supreme Court of Judicature of a Nation, than thought fit to afford. Finding also under feigned Names, easily intelligible, and in a Parisian Scheme Calculated, or rather clandestinely Designed for a Meridian nearer home, gross Reflections, as generally apprehended, on many Worthy Men now living, and some dead; (Fecit indignatio versum) the horror of the thing extorted the ensuing Poem, which, as it is, I freely commit to thy perusal, desiring thee to consider, if in some words and expressions, I have been a little keen and severe, that in this Case, and Thing especially so Circumstantiated, Difficile est Satyram non scribere. We did then also not a little admire, how a great and stately Fabric so far East, could so privately, and soon, be conveyed to the West; or how the Presidency, and Censorship of a * p. 158. Coll. could so cunningly be vested in one Man, who rudely, maliciously, and saucily exercises more Magisterial Authority, and Correptive Jurisdiction over the Prescripts, and Receipts of its Celebrated Members, than ever That did over the greatest Empirick, or unauthorised Physician. But considering that in the Opinion of some sort of Men, there is not a pin to choose between a Conclave, and a College, it may not be difficult to apprehend how so absurd a thing should happen, especially if we take in the Heifer of Envy to solve the Riddle of Malice, the working with which but a very little while, like another Sphinx, will unfold the Aenigma. A Low Condition in the World, I account a great unhappiness, but no disgrace, being what Infinite Wisdom, in an unquestionably prudent Series of Providence, thinks fit to determine; provided it be accompanied with an humble, industrious, and submissive mind, satisfied for the present, and patiently expecting better things when God shall see fit; but an impatient, restless, and turbulent necessity, that does cogere ad Turpia, such a Poverty as good Agur prayed against, that makes men steal, invade Property, and Common Right, break the Bonds of all Societies, and Laws, and turns men into Banditi, Pirates, and Highway men, such an Envious mean Condition, and no other, I would be thought to expose. As to what relates to Practice, for which this Capricio seems so much concerned, those Famous, Learned, and Worthy Men of the Parisian Conclave, whose Reputation, 'tis more than probable, is maliciously pelted, through the Crape and Tiffany of an envious disguise, if it be not thought, as I presume it will, too mean an undertaking, when it comes to their Knowledge, are better able to make a Defence; from which both their occasions and Dignity, may well excuse, in regard nothing material, but is here sufficiently, though succinctly answered, in sense, or in kind; from whom no other answer can justly be expected, than what a Learned Man gave an Antagonist he contemned: Audio contra me Scarabeum quendam scripsisse, cui respondere nec dignitatis est, nec otij. One thing more I would have thee understand, Reader, That what is here said in Just Vindication of the Members of the Conclave, that are concerned, is no way Derogatory to the known Worth, and great Eminence of the Cardinal's Exempt; for as the Reach went, the Cloud broke, and the Conclave, like the Israelitish Ground, was partly wet, and partly dry, but both so inconsiderably, that neither the moistures improves, nor the drought impairs. And here I thought fit to mention, That as I never had the Honour to be a Conclavist, so * Intred. I do protest, I never yet saw either Pope, Patriarch, or Cardinal; much less can be suspected to have had any encouragement from them, otherwise than the Satisfaction of my own Fancy, and the doing that good Office for others, which they may well think (as mentioned before) too mean for themselves, as knowing the best answer to Calumny is silence, according to that of the Historian, Convitia spreta exolescunt. Wherefore, if in this product of a few spare and drolling hours, that now ensues, any Service be done the Living, any Justice to the Dead, or the least Divertisement given Thee, Reader, is the uttermost aim and ambition of the Author, and thy Friend Philo-Musus. ADVERTISEMENT. TO avoid the Bulk and Trouble of Quotations, the places in the Conclave alluded to, or answered, are Paged in the Margin, to which the Reader, if he please, may have Recourse. ERRATA. Page 12. line ult. read Naiades. l. 19 r. evene. p 24. l. 3. r. the. l. 4. r. for. To the AUTHOR of the CONCLAVE. YOUR Bolt is gone, and only in this wise, That you so long about it did advise; 'Twas not soon shot, the Malice was prepense, And therefore justly gave the more offence; But a mild Judge, that all things calmly hears, At this time spared your Neck, and cropped your Ears. If you scape greater scouring, by a trick, You're fitter for the Conclave of Old Nick; It is his Trade the Brethren to accuse, And, as the * Quevedo's p. 235. Vision says, Torments a Muse; Yet while time lasts, the Muse protesteth, That She will Torment both Satan and his Brat. Melpomene. THE Introduction. COme fierce Orbilius, and inspire my Rage, To scourge a Medicaster of this Age; A nasty Bird, that his own Nest defiles, The Wise pay him with Scorns, the Fools with Smiles; An Alien from those Tents, whose Rules are fit To teach him better Manners, and more Wit. A gnawing Cubb, that tears Dams Bowels out, Inform, raw, shapeless, swollen as with the Gout; Hence tho' his satire style in Gall does wallow, His Rail are unfledged, his Curses callow. But can that Name, famed for Bloods Circulation, Turn Holocaust to Spleen, and Emulation? Bold Heterodox, of prostituted Fame! Cease to be Physicks-Zoil, or change thy Name, Degenerate Mome, born to confute that Theme, None of Great Harvey's Blood circle's in him; Whilst with Self-fancyed Names thou Courts our Eyes, Thine own is a mere Vizard and Disguise; But see what Venom in his Heart does lurk (A Renegade, is worse than Natural Turk) No Virtues can be seen by Jaundice Eyes, Where Malice holds the Glass to prejudice: Fool that thou art! what ails thy fruitless spite? Bark on, the Sun still shines with his own light. But how canst Thou and Jesuit disagree, As great a Snarler, and makebate as He, If's Bark obnoxious be, 'tis a new Fashion To sheathe up Argument, and draw forth Passion. What on this Head thou hast Material urged, we'll then consider, when thy Spleen is purged. Gideon's Fleece: AN HEROIC POEM. WHen Isr'el had done Evil in God's sight, And he his Scourge had made the Midianite; When seven years Yoke and Bondage, heavy grew, Enough to break the stiff neck of a Jew: Then Gideon, alias Jerubbaal, lived, One of Manasse's Tribe, that then was grieved, And by the hand of Midian sore oppressed, Despaired of safety more than all the rest. Poor in his Family, and he the least Of all his Father's House, that made a Feast Of Broth to treat an Angel, to whose lot Did fall the Present of a Porridge-pot, A Present well accepted, 'twas the Mind More than the Gift, the Angel made so kind. A Thresher not professed, but out of need, Joash his Son, of Abiezer's breed. A mean Estate good Gideon did confine, Is apt to make a bad one more repine, Fret, that desert, and learned men do thrive, When he scarce, with the P. knows how to live, 'Twas Naboth's Vineyard Ahab did invite, And Envy moved this spiteful Benjamite, To rail at israels mighty Men, when he A Mushroom is, and ever like to be. Had the wise whining Yelper been but quiet, Minded his Broth and Porridge pot, his Diet, His picque and malice than had ne'er been known, Or that no flesh remained on his bone, But since he loves the word, Unmasked, the same Dress does become both Venus, and his Name. 'Twas Wheat was thresht by Gideon Isra'lite, But men are so by Giddy Benjamite, Men, whom the world deservedly admire, And cannot by so blunt a Tool, expire, Men in the threshing put to so much pain, As Giddy speaks a Thresher, not in grain; Romantic, frantic, antic giddy brain, ne'er did the like, nor e'er can do again, a Andrew that would well become a Stage Had he more Wit, and less of Spleen and rage. But 'tis what's natural in Spleen-disease To have a dullness on the Body seize, And those have fits of Frenzy, and of Folly, That are oppressed with Flatus-Melancholly, Spiteful, Complaining, ne'er content with what God's Providence designeth for their Lot; Malicious, Envious, self-conceited, proud, Do their own Praise, and Folly sound aloud, Peevish and fretting at another's Good, The true Effects of salt, and sour blood, Morose, revengeful, sullen, fierce, elate, Still grudging at another's prosperous State; Vainglorious, truculent, puffed up with pride, Think they know more, than all the world beside. These Fruits grow on an Hypochondriac man, His Temper brings 'em forth, do what he can; The Cure is Consultation, 'tis too great For any Hocus to do such a feat, 'Tis the concern of skilful men, well read, To touch This Hydra's or Medusa's head, And he that but Pretender is to Art, Had better to a Conclave Griefs impart, Than vent so much scurrility and pride, And think he does behind a * Introduct. Curtain hide, Who would effect the Cure by Hellebore, And send him to Anticyra for more. Can any think but Sieur de Frisk is frantic, When he condemns another for * p. 185. Romantic? Or can that man excuse him from a fiction, That well observes his * p. 173. Manner of adstriction? Can't his Vulcanian Course, Philosophy Of Staples, Stakes, and Pipe-staves mentioned, * 173.174.175. vye With any part of Monsieur Scudery? As if an Atom, or part minimal, Could be a With, or Stake, at any call; Or what determined was to humane shape Could be a Monkey, or his Jackenape. Of what dimensions must that Atom be Whose Figure with a Staple does agree, What was so long impenetrable known Is softened now, and flexible is grown. Figures immutable, what makes the Change Not less intelligible, than 'tis strange? Simples, I mean, of which Compounds partake, Must be of certain Form, and pristine make. And I should think that it were easier far For any Child to bend an Iron Bar, Than for an Atom to be turned, or bend, By any force, less than Omnipotent. Must not the Staple always so endure, What can again its straightness reprocure? You'll say, the same force crooked it first with ease Can make it straight again, when e'er it please; Pretty! but here is doing and undoing, Much like a former Matrons formal wooing, Backward, and forward, pro and con, you see In Vulcan's Shop the chaste Penelope: And I should think the Staple must stand bend, Although, perhaps, the salt-stake may relent. Here better may be said, * p. 196. risum teneatis? If you can dance, the Fiddle you have gratis, And if the Pipes sweet melody but aid, Stiff-stakes will caper too, I am afraid. But should I hearken longer to this Music I should forget Philosophy, and Physic, Smiling a little while I now proceed Upon this doughty Champion's doughtier deed. Can any read this weak Mechanic prater, And not say, that he is the * p. 199. Innovator, * p. 196. Will with a Wisp, whose blazeing light entices Out of the common way with strange * p. 186. Caprices, Which if you follow, more truth will be missed, Than any other * p. 197. Jatrosophist. Is this the man will not be loved but feared, That plucks the hair off a dead Lion's beard? Drivels as if he still were chewing Mastic, Moisture as Excremental, as * p. 194. Fantastic? Is this the man, or rather Gut Jejune, To set all mankind right and into tune? * p. 120. Can Rules and Remedies of Physic put (As Homer's Iliads sometime in a Nut) Into one Sheet, on which all men (no less) With greater safety, speed, and good success, May more depend, securely more rely, Than best pretenders to Anatomy? Is this the ancient * p. 95. Method up to cry, To pinion Method, that should freely fly? Or the Dogmatic Curer to assist Against a Quack, or * p. 100 Pseudo-methodist? That is, that will not travel in his way * p. 186. Novel or antique (antic I should say.) * p. 82. Good God with what a bold, and brazen-face, Do some men labour others to disgrace, Make any Method of that Brat the Father, That is not Method, but is Quacking rather; And yet these men to Method can pretend, But 'tis no longer than 'twill serve their end, Be downright Quack, and Methodist together, As rain, and storm, in Sun shine; twisted weather. Is this the man that does so * p 21●. 211. featly prate Of what will purge, fix, and precipitate, All in a breath? a Febrifugue so fine, So much a Pearl, too good for Conclave Swine, * 16●. Ducklings can laugh, at what will purge and fix, And may precipitate, but down to Styx. Ducklings a better name can never lack, Duckling the best, because a Duck cries Quack. But to return, and here a little write, To do an absent man a job of right, Famous at home, abroad almost adored, Who does for praise an ample field afford. Can any think so mean of Doctor Willis But one that's meaner much, and much more silly is, That he should lay so great a stress upon * p. 172. Two cases, in a great Phaenomenon? As for the Mothers, and the Daughter's sake, To raise in his own Spleen an Ague-cake? Fix that Disease on Principles unsound, That with one Frisk are tumbled to the ground, * p. 193. And this on Hear-say? no man can dispense With so much Malice, and so little Sense. Did not this Great man often ponder, when He thought of any thing he had to pen, Cast much about, consider many Cases, Take Practic turns, joined with Theoric-paces? Confer and lay up many things in heap, First whet his Sith, and then begin to reap? Who knew him better, had a longer knowledge, Than one that spent a small time in a College, Will say, 'twas so, and no man took more care Good workmen, and Materials to prepare: 'Tis true he did Compose, and Set alone Would hear another, that consider on, But that he was Romantic, or was Rash, No man can say, but who deserves a Lash Well laid on by one of his own Profession, * p. 8. As learned a Schoolmaster, as good Physician. But what if this be all the Daughter owns, (Who speaks with honour to the Doctor's bones,) That she was once his Patient, that he gave Her Mercury, but never digged her grave; That she did slumber, far from her last sleep, The very noise of which had made her weep, Had discomposed her in a high degree And that from blame she thought the Doctor free. What if the Mother prove much more averse To what her dead Physician may asperse? Both ill resent, and both do much Condemn, Who private speech will make a public Theme, Heightened with all the aggravations can Proceed from an enraged, ill-natured man, Was not this (thus against their wills) a rape, Who both did thus (through mercy) death escape. These are the Cases, credit if you please, Thus doted on, in a perplexed disease. * p. 19 In nomine Domini, can this be the same To Honesty and Conscience * p. 75. lays such claim? * p. 15●. Whose sentiment was so far in the right, When three Physicians were mistaken quite; And one should tell him so, that if he would Subscribe to them against the Patients good, And his own knowledge, he should get so well. As he can't there express, nor e'er should tell. Where's Monsieur Scudery? One of those stories, In which an honest, but no wiseman, Glories. An honest man may keep an honest Wh—— And Conscience tell one L— but never more. The great Sidleian Star whose glorious ray Was as the Sun, enough to make a day, Whose shining lustre filled an orb it made, Tho' now he be, (as all men) dust and shade, Set in a Clime from Noxious Vermin clear, And shineing bright in Empyrean Sphere, Enough to teach an Envious man to rest, For envy never haunts a Soul that's blest, Painful, and pious, Searching each recess Of Nature, and the art he did profess, Endowed with such a Soul, that made up all Defects could e'er upon a Body fall; Candid, and Tender of another's Fame, A good Example still to do the same, Deserved much better Language. But the sport Encouraged all, expected from the Court, And disappointed. Thanks my Muse does Sing To both a Gracious and sagacious King, That quickly found, disliked, plucked out the sting. Knew though the word, Associate, on that score Be in Contempt, as some have been before, In an opprobrious way, That to apply Unto a Royal learned Society Was arrogance, attemptible by none But once a Wasp, and now a stingless drone. The radiant beams are by reflex divine, Like Moses Face, that make the Conclave shine, May fright profaner men, defend till death From Vzzahs' touch, and Shimei's stinking breath. Who Vilifies what stands on Royal Grace, Striking the Child, slyes in the Father's face. The Golden chrysostom, whose mouth and Tongue Is one well made, and tother sweetly hung, Or rather the experienced Ulysses, Who's Tongue is tipped with better speech, than His is, Words than the purest oil much smother are, And than the sweetest butter softer far, Leaves the drawn sword to him whose arrows sly, Like plagues, in darkness and with secrecy. To good effect That spent abroad some time Saw Men, and Customs, in another Clime, Brought back the Virtues of a foreign nation, At home well used in a higher station, Must be traduced by Nickname of * p. 110. DETATTLE As if discoursing wisely were to prattle: Ver'st in affairs at home, and things abroad, Must undergo a Paedagogian Rod, Learned, and well accomplished, whose great soul, Some may abuse, but (justly) none Control; Learning well managed is a double grace, 'Tis a good band, and 'tis too a good face. And here I can't but cast a sheepish eye Upon the Vervex in Anatomy, A double Vervex makes a heavy Bustle, Like Janus bifrons, or the Biceps muscle: Nabal a Bell-wether, by a mischance, Where Fate, not Merit, Cattle does advance, Is here discharged, to pick up crumms with Must, And should love Majesty, as well as Puss. Nabal no Bell-wether, but a fierce Ram, That butts the flock, and runs at his own Dam. Gideon to Vervex ever lent an eye, That made him pray, his Fleece might once be dry, But here 'tis as the Butcher eyed the Goat, To bind him first, and then to cut his throat. Is the right leg on which an Art does stand A mark of Ignominy, or a brand Of vile reproach? That Art must be but Lame, If it can any way deserve that name, That wants this help to aid, and crutch the same. The famed Circle that the blood doth make, The Circuit it does round the body take, A Circuit that is but a Visitation, To help each part, and keep it in its station, Discovered by a man, whose very name To haters of Anatomy's a shame, We justly owe to this Industrious art, Declares the blood comes from, flows to the Heart. Next to the Circulation I may place What's near of kin, and much of the same race, That does promote the motion of the blood, A Muscle not yet throughly understood, Protrudes it to the place where 'tis designed Arterial blood to Venal must be joined, Eases the thought, with what prodigious art The blood can move so soon to every part. The Pulse that (heretofore) sat in the throne, Cannot in this affair (now) act alone, But must admit this helper to assist, Discovered by a late Anatomist: Whose greater pain and care, he best can know That such Fatigues again shall undergo; Whose busy head and most industrious hand Much greater commendation does command, Having that firm, and sure foundation laid, Art will admire, and only Quacks upbraid. This Muscle d●●s the artery invest, And suffers not Arterial blood to rest, Which by this means is ever onward pressed, Was never brought to light, till search was made Into what lay so long obscure in shade By one yet living▪ ready to maintain What's showed in Cutts by Willis of the brain, Or lungs, or Stomach, artery or vein, Chiefly to give the Fabric of each part, Expects additions from the men of Art. That Knife, and Glass, the voyage first began That first did pass those straits of Magellan, Don't yet despair to show where more things lie Cannot displease Friends to discovery, Glass Pylades, Orestes was the Knife, In Products Anatomic, Man and wife. The Milky veins, contain the Chyle that feeds And fresh supplies, of blood and spirit breeds, Supports the Fabric that would soon decay, Did not new still recruit, what flies away. The dust conveys the Pancreatic juice, Of such necessity, and so great use, Into the Guts, fierce Choler to allay That else upon those tender parts would pray. The limpid Liquor, where the Nymphs do sport And all the water-deities resort, Of Naides, and Hyadeses the Court; The Nerves, and whence the branches do commence To every part those Spirits to dispense, That quicken motion, and excite the sense, Keeps Nature in the frame, it should be in, And shows the hand that moves the work within. These, and besides much more a numerous train Of parts that make, and wait upon the brain For natures Secret Service, and command, Are products of an Anatomic hand. Who can this noble, useful art defame, Whence such advantages already came? And what may more, 'tis he alone can tell That knows the work, he made himself so well. What is * p. 30. Superfluous, 'tis hard to know, Good Plants among so many weeds may grow, That he the weeds must move, that has a mind But one good plant of better sort to find. Can such an one * p. 8. a Killing Idol be? If e'er was Alexicacus, 'tis he. Much greater Idiots then * p. 19.5. at Paris are Fools of the first rate, any man may swear, Who do expect to run a race, or go Without a leg, without a foot or toe, Without this Art, who would Physicians be Shall pass for Fools, or Lunatics for me. * p. 60. A yellow cap becomes his head the best, And better much then where 'tis rudely placed Instead of Velvet on the learned Crown Of one of so much honour, and renown. But nothing is too saucy for a Prag, Bespatters men, and thinks he plays the wag, Is neither Horse, nor Ass, but (both) a mule, Heady and silly, whom the bit must rule, Bridle Command and Whip too must correct, Who to defame another doth affect. A Chemist only makes poisonous projection, A Yomist pleased with none but Vive dissection: Lances, or rather butchers men alive, Thinks that alone can make a poor man thrive. To Vervex junior something to apply That stanches blood from Jugular does fly, Intended to do greater mischief far But is but what a Plethora, can spare. 'Tis Manual Operation is the Bud Contains, wrapped up within, the greatest good, Succeeds in Practice, to a man of Art, Who knows the whole, can better mend a Part. Physician, or Chirurgeon can't be bad, That's skilled in this, and such great help has had. What if in Practise some do chance to die? Was it because the Monsieur was not by: Or if a Tendon punctured be or Nerve, (Which yet needs Faith, and credit must deserve) Can such an accident that happens ill Blanch or defame an able Surgeon's skill? 'Tis real Knowledge, maugre all disaster, Will make a Scholar much outdo a Master. But what if what does for ill Puncture pass Be nothing but an Erysipelas? On which a Gangreen may, perhaps, sur'vene, And turn about the story quite and clean; No Nerve, nor Tendon wounded, or no pain, What then was punctured was the Median Vein; And so acknowledged by * p. 43. the man of Art, The first did to a Vein, that word impart. Is not a Surgeons Credit punctured thus, Assassined by a scattering Blunderbuss? Charged with as many Bullets as might kill Twelve men, if managed with more wit and skill, But now less hurtful than a single Bugg, And all may well concentre in one Slug. Rather look home, and say thus, Pater Noster, Forgive the daily Blunders I do foster, Stifle and keep from public view, and sight, Tho' others here with faults I charge in spite, Give Food, and Raiment to a man has none, And when I ask for bread, give not a Stone, Yet if a Stone should slip into my gut, I know to whom to go to have it cut, To one, I hope, (though him I did abuse) Will not a Patient penitent refuse. Charge not Male Practice on my younger Age, Nor on my riper years Malicious Rage, From Hatred, Envy, Malice, and the Curse, Of want of Charity, deliver us. This is a Christian Part, and not to fly On Places gawl'd, or strike men in the eye. The Bell sounds loud, and rung will never break, Much better placed, then on an Emp'ric's neck: That's now in middle State, twixed fear, and hope, Is a Vatinius to a Miroscope, Yet when he please, of That pretends the use As some atonement for a grand abuse. A Bauble, in another's hand, in His Omnipotent, and a Creator is. Would Parboil, Bake, would dry, and roast enough, But that another man must find the stuff, Would have the benefit of his own lash, Could he reach further than a poor Calash. Those that are better drawn about in Coaches Are object, sitted for the worst reproaches; But ne'er the worse for Rabshake's great rant, A Poor Physician, and a weak Gallant. Had he but what the Fleece deserved, all men Of idle scribble would abhor his Pen, A thing of such a foul Prodigious Genus, As far exceeds both great and little Venus. But as a Guerdon, for his Clerkly Pains More wit may be transfused into's * p. 13. Calfes-brains. * p. 188. Shagrin of this concern may ta●●… the care, And Frisk be plagued materials to prepare. Of what great use the Microscope has been, To all Ingenious men is plainly seen; And he that laughs at so great help as that, Needs not its aid to magnify a Bat. * p. 135. FAETUS, the Glory of his Alma Mater, Buoyed up with fame in Practices High water, A seamark, which no Pilot but must see, And by his means escape much misery, Made for the good of others, and well may Be pitched upon by every bird of prey: Who tho' thereon he drops his dung, no hurt Comes to this Pillar, high enough from dirt; What e'er is thought of Foetus, that's the Child That has himself, and his own Bed defiled, A hopeful bird, as ravenous, as great, Like a foul Harpy, dungs upon his meat. He that obliged has all human kind, By labouring man's Original to find, His rise, and growth, and how that Little can Was once a Point, in time become a span, That span a Child, and then that Child a man: Whose modest skill into those secrets searched, That Nature, like a Hawk, kept mewed, and parched, Must meet with men inhuman or more plain, With Brutes that rudely will reward such pain: A Book of greater worth, I here engage, Than all the Quacking Scribble of an Age, Venus with all her wand'ring Train, can't dare With this fixed Star, Lustre, or Light compare. Another Scene of Mirth must be * Morbilli, Sober, and Grave, that calls to mind Barzillai; Aged, and true, who Compliments his Art, As loath from it, and it from him, to part; At the same distance from a * p. 8. Western Bumkin, As is a Good Muskmelon, from a Pumkin. Would bring * Medicina. the Queen, o'er Jordan's stream, but that His Feet can hardly go at such a rate; Wishes her well, and prays no Ill may come By open Violence, or secret Doom; Useful to many, whose great Fame and Skill, His Neighbours longer ears, do vex, and fill. M●s absent, in his place cannot appear, His Deputies, * p. 135. the Monsieur le Docteur. Sieur Plegmatick, now in his Grave, must be Digged up again, hanged in Effigy: * p. 110 etc. Branded with all the marks in Head and Hand, Fancy can Forge, or Envy can command: Made the Chief Butt for Arrows were most tipped With Pett, and (more) in Malice double dipped. Of whom, what here is fitter to be said, Is, That a Learned Sober man is dead; Ought to have Right, and Privilege of Rest, The Magna Charta of all Men deceased; Great in his time at Court, and in the City, Staunch in his Judgement, though not madly Witty. His Epitaph, made by a Man of Fame, Whose Nature flatly contradicts his Name, Pictor and Poet, does him greater right, Is the best Antidote, expels the spite, There best are read his Parts, and Charity, How far from Base, and Sordid Actions free: Grandeur, and Candour, if you please to hear, Marble can speak, and Stone will make appear, To him that both together shall compare, What Contumelies on his Ashes lie, Sacred and Dear, to all Posterity. If whipping Cat of Ninetails, or Strappade, Anointed well with Oil of Bastinado, Be justly due to a true Renegado, What will become of them, that cross the Seas, To purchase Doctorship at greater ease, And, at return, affirm their Mushroom Skill, Can cure the Men, that greater Art would kill? Turn tail to every thing where they were born, And think That nothing can deserve, but scorn, Compared with what the Braggadocio prates, Is had beyond Sea at much cheaper rates. Vaunt their own great Accomplishments, and Art; As if to all they Science could impart. These would be Bell-wether, but that 'tis found, The Bell is cracked, or has a crafty sound. Short horns best suit such mischievous shrewd kine, That nothing humane have, much less Divine; * p. 71. Does such a false, and idle Tale rehearse, As shames his Prose, and ill becomes my Verse. To give the Painter his true Colours then, The Doctor was desired, or called, 'tis ten To one; or on the old ones tired Back, A new Disease might come, with fresh attack; Carus, or Apoplectic fit may smite, And that might make the Painter say, * p. 75. Good night, When all the fault upon the Jesuit lies, * p. 135. Good man and true! without him no man dies, To whom 'tis malice to assign this Function, To close up Eyes, or funge in * p. 74. extreme Unction. * p. 75. Who can report six grains of Salt of Amber, Can, but by Frisk be thought, to fill a Chamber- Pot of a Kilderkin? Perhaps, more may Bring Water in great quantity away, So this may serve another to expose, The matter was not much, what was the Doses: This was enough to raise the Cry, * p. 15. Oibo! 'Tis Conclave Cardinals make Urine so, The Dogs without, and * Introd. Dock-tailed Curs, do miss, When they hold up their Crippled Legs, to piss. The same Untruth and Malice, you may find, In other things: I hast to what's behind. To show this Monsieurs picque is general, Spares none, but like to death attacqueth all, Opens at all, falls foul upon a Brother, And would, if she could be a man, his Mother, Sheds Venom on a man of * p. 83. Bouncing Fame, A man of great, and yet without, a name; 'Tis not material, some body was meant, What he most Fancies, whether Dort, or Trent; Trojan or Tyrian, 'tis no matter which, The man must scratch, if Envy does but itch; Yet from himself he draws the greatest Blood, And that way, if a Witch, may be withstood; But 'tis no Conjurer, the greatest need, Is from a Calenture he has to bleed, Passing the line, distempered he is grown, Else he the Conclave would have let alone. The thing's too plain for any to pass by, The foul Harangue of a fine Butterfly; * p 50. A famed Norw. Doctor, that should scour Unto his Patient, in a Coach and four, But for a Butterfly, made such a halt, As made soft Fire (he says) make stinking malt; But what a pretty * p. 60, 61. answer is there said, By the new Widow, to the Doctor made, Such as is deeply dipped in a Romance, And savours much of A-la-mode a France. * p. 198. Who to their Institutes a Conclave sends, Should see that Truth Intelligence attends, That he be well informed, and not asperse, The living Gown, or the deceased Hearse, That famous Person was too great, too high, Too wise, too solid, to regard a fly Domitian-like; when great concerns were near, Then unconcerned, and childish to appear; But grant 'twas so, the Patient might have died, Before his Wife his Quackship could have spied, Cubbed in Calash, or on a Winged Steed, What e'er his haste was, or how great his speed; Since it did so evene, I may so say, And not predestinate men's lives away; Unless this may perhaps be in your mind, To frustrate means the Fly was then designed; But did not Politics Divinely err, That Monsieur was not destined to be there? Who would have scorned the Coach, and been the Fly, Put on his Wings, before the Sick should die. And since I name his Quackship, 'tis but right, To bring some of his Virtues into sight, His Craft, and his Technologie, to get The Fish that will not bite, into his Net. * p. 61. First he before him sendeth out a Scout, To make his way, and bring the thing about; Instructs his Emissaries, sends before Such Cattle, than himself knocks at the Door; But first (desired) his Scout prepares the way, And what an Artist this man is, does say, Has cured such and such, that were deplored, And by his Speech, makes him almost adored; Then does the Woodcock fall into the Trap, And lives or dies, as good or ill shall hap. Works off the former * p. 62. Physick-man, that he, To kill, may have the greater Liberty; Is petulant, and seldom will confer About the Case of any * p. 5. Sufferer, Without Affront, or Huff, will take a care The man he meets, be just of his own hair, No joining else, else no way to comply, But Discord is the greatest Harmony. Such Rascal Deer do oft out lie the Pale, And are not much concerned in the Tale; But if they wanton, or too fat do grow, The Keeper then must use his Gun or Bow. * p. 90. The Nail well CLENCHED on the other side, Fast riveted, will ever so abide, Cannot be drawn, until his Pincers come, That for another left so little room; A Nail that's driven with so great a stroke, As might one of the Brotherhood provoke; Isma'l, contentious Member, rotten Limb, Conclave, and Quack, are jointly met in him: To whom I wish a Temper free from stealing, Less of the Quack, and more of fairer dealing; Or, if he wants an Office, I'd prefer To be the Conclaves Annual Scavenger, Provided he himself did well demean, Not make more foul, the place he should keep clean. * p 147. The next Physician to the House that's best, In spacious Paris, sacred in the West, Must have a flap of Reynards' stinking Tail, Tho' it to hurt him nothing does avail; 'Twas nothing but because he was not there, Had he but come, he'd cured the Pewt. But being not called in, the man was slain, Unhappy much, beyond a Country Swain; Two Planets ( * p. 148. Saturnine) presage his Death, When he alone propitious was to Breath; Could give the Lease of Life a longer date, Could parley Death, and give a check to Fate, Could be the best directing Cynosure, And knew the thing, did never fail to Cure. Were * p. 91. Russia Discipline now used here, He would his share of Justice have, I fear, Whose longer Practice ne'er can Maiden be, As an Assize from Execution free. Had such a Custom been in England, than He never now had railed at better men; Had been a Sufferer by Lex Talionis, And no body had taken out de Bonis. This only would notabile have been, And he out of a constant course of sin. But since he lives to cast that in the Dish Of one, has greater Fame than he could wish, I hope all Men will laugh, and no man vex At the fly trick of such a Carnifex. A fatal Error, there, perhaps might be Unknown to him, caused that Catastrophe, Or time appointed, which God only knows, Without a Fault, the Patient's Eyes might close, Which here I leave to men of Art that know What As'rum' Roots, and Ruckthorne Syrup do; Only suggest Scammoniats, and Mercurials, Have made more Slaughter, and procured more Burials. These are the marks this Monsieur levels at, Too free in Censure, ever to be fat, In scribbling spends himself: Thus Rabbits play, Much rain, and frisking washes Fat away. If any more his venomed Arrows hit▪ For I did only cast an Eye on it; Never have Patience Libels to peruse, That Learned Men, and Worthy do abuse: Never approve in Poetry, or Prose, To hang a man, unless 'tis by the Nose, He that le's lose a Bull-dog pen on man, Will cut his Throat, when e'er he fairly can. Credit is next to Life, nay, greater Bliss, A better Being, than bore Being is: Who, unprovok't, another sets upon, 'Tis ten to one is scratched, if not undone. To any touched, if I have not done right, I will next time Tarantula does bite, Next Caper's cut, or the next frisk is made, And now retire from Sun shine into shade, To meditate upon a Hackney Jade. First from the Worthier men their Pardon crave Beneath desert, if treated 'em I have. Here Gemini the Constellation shines, Simeon with Levi force together joins; * p. 14. Simeon the Doctor does in Van appear, Levi the Surgeon marches in the rear, Commanded by the Frisk, all three attaque, And jointly leap upon another's back. Had not this Doctor better stayed at home, Then come abroad to carp, and play the Mome; Whose Haunches would much better fill a Chair, Then play such pranks, scarce here accounted fair, Beneath the worth and place of a Professor, To favour Trigg, or Culpeppers Successor. Levi the younger Tribe, and much more dull, Famous for little Brain, and a thick Skull; Who shows his Teeth, that are too blunt to bite, And hates what he should be, an Isra'lite, The Junior Vervex is the likeliest man, Levy's full inch-thick Cranium to Trepan, Where can no danger be of hurt to Brain, Much like a Rabbits, when the Moons in Wain. Levi the Cursed Cow with her short Horns, May cure a Pencil wart, and cut men's Corns, But if you look for one of greater Art, Gideon can tell where Vervex keeps his mart. And here I may both Prose and Poem join, Embarked in almost the same design, Profane, Traducing, Dull, in every line; Prose without Grace, and Poems without Wit, Are like a rotten Nut has nought in it, When Maggot has devoured the Kernel, than The Empty shell is not fit Food for Men. Were I to choose what man I thought the best, And among Poets Saul above the rest; I ne'er should think a Self-conceited thing Could be of very Poetasters King; I rather like a Modest Muse, that hears, What others say, and at them pricks her ears, Then a damned Porcupine, whose venomed quill, Can shed the Blood of whom he please to kill. Is't Wit or Wile, I'd ask a sordid Muse, In Proser, or in Poet, to abuse? Here now my Muse, would take a little rest, Claiming what others want, quieta est. (After a little Pause.) She's now refreshed, and travels on before ye, Into some other parts of Sacred Story. When israel was to try the mighty band Of his Almighty Sovereign's Command, To cause the force of Midian to retreat, And with 300 a great host defeat; Then Gideon prayed, a Fleece, if dry, might be A Signal promise of a Victory; His suit was granted; Fleece was dry; on all The Ground about a mighty dew did fall. 'Tis now no miracle, the Fleece is dry, Gideon can show't without a Prodigy. And to its dryness you may add, 'tis light, With Pores well stuffed with Drollery, and Spite: Who ought of Argument in it can meet, Had need of Eyes that are not dim to see't. No Vein but railing, and of Nerves not one Is to be found in this dry Sceleton: The Viscera are all become one Spleen, Nought else but That, and Lungs are to be seen; Nought else does fill the Cavity below, Except that part whence bitter Gall does flow. Jejunum does appear the greatest Gut, Ileon, and Colon, are in Caecum put, Caecum's the Babies Rectum too, the Blind Gu●●●… so crammed, it leaves a stink behind, A stink does to the Infant most adhere, Who does himself with his own Dung besmere. The Brain so little, and its bulk so small, Is next of kin to what is none at all; And easy 'tis to think, a thing that's dull Can come from none, but from an empty Skull. Yet that which greatest therein I do see, Is what is called R●te mirabile. A Net well bird-limed, spread with a Design To hasten work, and multiply the Coin. This was a Voyage for the Golden Fleece, Attempted by a flock of gaggling Geese: Not such as saved Rome's Capitol from harm, But such as Colchos were resolved to storm. A Crew of Seamen, strong and lusty Louts, And Jason there, Chief of the Argonauts. But stay—— 'Tis not the taking some Outlandish Air, Can make a man accomplished home repair, Unless the Root be in him, no good Fruit Can be expected; 'Tis a better Brute, A Stallion dressed with Ribbon, so well bred, To leap a Common Brain, and Vulgar Head. A pair of Whiskers, and the Sieur de Frisk, Make Art no greater, tho' the man more brisk; Some Transmarine, tho' Hospital Physicians Have no more Skill than Vagabond Musicians; 'Tis Judgement to the Mill that brings the Grist; The Butcher sees more than th' Anatomist; Things too familiar seldom will grow big; A Grocer's Apprentice scarce will touch a Fig; And tho' the Traveller the Cog more mind, The homebred dusty-pole more Corn will grind. Physic, and all the Care of It is vanished, Out of that Breast would have Physicians banished; * p 114. Writes Bodin, Sueton, Seneca say thus, Quintilian also, and Herodotus; If they a Barbarous action but relate, The same is laudable in his wisepate; And what in Foreign parts inhuman was, Must every where as practicable pass, Because Some suit not with a peevish mind, To All in general he'll prove unkind, Taking a Pet (perhaps) at Two or Three, Extend his Rage to all the Faculty: Rip up the Bowels, that himself have born, And Nero-like, expose to view and scorn: But this does too great Honour to him lend, Med'cin no Viper is, nor bore this Fiend; An Asiatic Monster, Meager, Slender, Got where wild Beasts come down to Drink, and Gender. 'Tis best this way an Artist to become, And this the best Anatomy to Some. Who, if they bring this Custom into fashion, Should be the first are banished from the Nation; Were all like him to Physic did pretend, Most would be pleased it might have such an end. Can any think this probable can be; * Introd. New Observations in Anatomy Should be discovered more by one than all The numerous Conclave, Pope, and Cardinal? And yet this man Dissection to pursue, With all the Malice to a Caitiff due; Here's a plain Surfeit taken of a Knife, Too much of Pride, too little of a Wife Perverteth Judgement, and Debauches Life. Herostratus, a Temple did inflame, To see if that way he could raise a name: And 'tis the Province of a sneaking Drab To lend sometimes Authority a stab: 'Tis a great step to an Egregious Knave, At one time to attaque a whole Conclave: And tho' the care be great of Guard and Welt, The blow may be, when unexpected, felt. A Suburb-Cat should mind no City-mices; Distempered Persons need the most advice, A Name so great, so famous, cease to wear, Or to abuse his Conclave, Quack! forbear; And that of Gideon evermore decline, Or, under meaner Fortune, cease to whine. He that would live in Calm, and rest in Shade, Must not another's Name or Fame invade; For who an ill Aggressor once is found, Is ever plagued still to make good bad Ground. Who loves to contradict another's sense, May that way Doctor Singular Commence, Live an uneasy Life, and when he dies, Have this Inscribed, * p 135. Doctor of Contraries. But to go on with a brisk Gale and Tide, And after Safely at an Anchor ride; Breath of good men, not to usurp, but gain, Saluted Admiral upon the main, Top and Top gallant, Pendant, Streamer wear, Is that which Contradiction cannot bear. Roughness one Creature claims as a true mark, And Curs may have a property to bark, Shapeless is one, and snarling is the other; different in kind, in rudeness each a Brother. Honour is not in him that does receive, But better placed in him, that does it give; He is the Fountain whence Respect does flow; The Man is but a rivulet below, Damned up, or stopped, by every wash, or fall Of a great Tide, or of a rotten Wall. The best advance is by Humility, And none can make so great a Leap, as he That first retreats, and then comes on more fierce, Fetches it further, than I can rehearse. I ne'er the better am, if ten be bad, Nor can one Virtue in their Vice be had. I may a bitter envious mind express, And thereby make myself so much the less But if I would August and Great appear, I'd not deserve, or no man's Censure fear: Censure but few; not count myself the best, He that Connives is sooner at his rest. 'Tis an ill way to be a man of * p. 158. Note, To take all men he meets with by the Throat; Expose with all the foulest Play he had, What, with a fair Construction, can't be bad; Were all due Circumstances weighed and clear, The Charge would not so terrible appear: But when one so much envious freedom takes, Censures but what himself observes and makes; 'Tis ill to bring such Mormo's into sight, And then with them himself, and others fright, Lay Death and Slaughter at another's door, That is as far from that, as being poor. First make a Body of Absurdities, Then cloth it with malicious disguise. 'Tis no good Nature, much less any Skill, To save the Patient, but the Doctor kill, Endeavour, by all means, such to expose, Are others Friends, and only are his Foes; Made so by Crossness, and a Peevish Frame, That will allow none else to have a Name. Envy's the worst Companion e'er can be, Embracing, Jvy-like, it kills the Tree; 'Twas Aeacus did wittily Torment, And with such Wit was into Torment sent; There made a Hellish Judge, fit for the place, Some still remain of Aeacus' Race: But I can ill allow it to be Wit, Folly enough may be observed in it; Folly the Wit has so much overgrown, That Wit from Folly hardly can be known. Some wore their Eyes abroad, the Story tells, At home were Beetles, Moles, and Dotterels. Candour becomes all men of greatest Art, Not to be too Severe, or madly Tart; Who makes a Burning-Bull for others fame, Perillus like, must perish in the same. A Tyrant can't but this just Sentence pass, Since both are hot, and both are made of Brass. he'll find two things, whoever shall be there, To be a Patient, and a Sufferer; In heat Tormenting that must suffer still, Let Patience, or Impatience work its will. The Conclave ne'er will need, nor fear that Fiend, That in Reproaches does his Talon spend; But in Contempt, and plain Defiance stands With Envious Quacks, and boasting * p. 107. Scharlatans'. To the READERS of this POEM. A Smiter would let none pass by, Without a Blow or Calumny, And those upon their Faces found, He jobbernowled against the Ground; To give an ease was general, * Vid. Diog. Laert. in vita Diog. p. 388. Ed. Steph. 1593. ubi haec verba: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Cynic hung him on the Wall Of Aesculapius' Temple, where Before that God he did appear, And all Spectators present, saw A Railer, an Anathema. Believe not me, believe your Eyes, A Smiter is made Sacrifice. PHILIATRUS. FINIS.