Augusta's Restoration from Her City-Calenture, By an Emittick PILL OF QUO WARRANTO from Westminster.  
The Tune is, Now, now the Fight's done, Or, The Delights of the Bottle.  

 
  

AUGUSTA our famed Metropolitan Saint,  
That does no Perfection, but Gratitude want;  
So long with Retirement from Troubles was Blest,  
She Contracted a Surfeit of Plenty and Rest:  
Grew sick of her Ease, and all her Physicians,  
Confessed her Distemper was only Seditions.   

II.  
Of a Purge and a Vomit they all did Conclude,  
And some cooling Emultions to sweeten her Blood;  
But they were so long in Consulting her Cure,  
That her Fever did Rage to a Calenture:  
A Doctor was ask what Planet did Rule,  
When Augusta cried out Quo Warranto you Fool.   

III.  
Sir Patience much interested in her Affair,  
Because 'tis well known, he was once her Lord Mayor;  
He turned up his Eyes, and cried farewel Old Tony,  
This City will ne'er again have such a Crony:  
Tho' much may be said of Pop— on Du— see,  
Then Augusta she Laughed, and cried hang up th' Choice.   

iv  
The Chamberlain hoping Augusta to please,  
Threw up his Accounts, which was nothing but Keys;  
I am sorry, quoth he, for to see such Disorder,  
But do you say the rest, pray good Mr. Recorder:  
The Knight said no more, but away he did Bundle,  
As fast as he could to Moorfields to his Trundle.   

V  
Poor Be— l and Cornish they only did say,  
If Augusta were pleased, Doctor Oats he would Bray;  
Ban— r stood by and desired her consent,  
Ignoramus, quoth she, 'tis too late to Repent:  
If you and your Juries for Pardon can hope,  
He deserves to be Hanged that's afraid of a Rope.   

VI  
By this time the News to Great Caesar was brought,  
How Augusta lay sick, and no Cure could be wrought;  
His Scarlet Physicians appointed a day,  
To conclude with her Friends of the speediest way:  
They all did conclude this Malignant Disease,  
Was too too much Freedom, Indulgence, and Ease.   

VII.  
For which they prepared her a rare Purging Pill,  
And all the grave Doctors Subscribed to the Bill;  
It went 'gainst her heart, but it Worked in a trice,  
Then up came Po— on, and down went Du— se:  
Thus upward or downward, till all she had eaten,  
Came Co—sh and Be— l, Sir W— d, and Sir Cl— ●n.   

VIII.  
Shaftsbury's Jury, and College the Martyr,  
H— in and Pl— r, and at last came the Charter;  
Nay, now, quoth the Doctors, no doubt you'll do well,  
These lay on your stomach and made it Rebel:  
But that they may never offend you no more,  
Pray turn them together down your Common-shore.   

IX.  
She sighed for to think that such dear Friends must part,  
Yet Humbly confessed she was lighter at heart;  
And begged that great Caesar would graciously please,  
To think she no more would complain of her Ease:  
And vowed that she ne'er would deserve his Reproach,  
For his Doctors had made her as sound as a Roach.   
FINIS.   

Printed for Peter Trimme●, 1683.