PROLOGUE TO Physic Reformed.  

Three Colleges of late,  
Were in a hot Debate,  
About a Brainsick Ass,  
That aught to have a Pass  
To go from whence he came.   

moorfield's was in a Rage,  
And swore that ne'er a Page  
In all the Ape had writ,  
Had either Art of Wit:  
'Twas done to get a Name.   

Therefore the Quack shall be  
In Straw, Confined with me,  
Until his Sense return,  
For Wit he'll ne'er have none,  
All must subscribe to this.   

Then Warwick-lane began  
To speak of this Young Man,  
And owned they must allow  
All that was said was true,  
Yet did not do amiss   

In letting of him be  
Of their Society:  
For tho' he has no sense,  
Yet he has Impudence  
Enough to Say, and Writ.   

He understands much more  
Than e'er was known before,  
And every Man's a Fool  
That is not of our School;  
For us he'll Write, Lie, Fight,   

Inform, Suborn, nay Swear;  
But of his By't beware:  
Thus whilst he'll be our Tool,  
He shall be of our School.   

Bridenwell at this with's Whip a Circle drew,  
Then Conjured up old Harry's Ghost to view  
The ills, he'd done in forming of such Schools,  
Composed of nothing else but Knaves and Fools.  
The Ghost replied, I ne'er Consented to  
That Law, they say they have, for what they do:  
Unto this Town they are a greater Cheat,  
Than to the World is the damned Romish Seat.  
Hast to their Synagogue; say, Industry  
And Wit are Cramped by their Monopoly.  
Plague, Famine, Sword, produce not half the Ill  
That these Rogues do, in Licensing to Kill.  

Lash out the Drones, and then you'll scarcely see  
In that great Hive so much as one poor Bee,  
For Sourbatch that Wretch belongs to thee.     

Printed for J. C. Junior.