LONDON'S Disease, and Cure: BEING A Sovereign Receipt against the PLAGUE, for Prevention sake.  By JOHN QVARLES, Philo-Medicus 
THere's none so ignorant, I hope, but knows,  
Medicines are good, as well in Verse, as Prose;  
Therefore consulting with my Thoughts, I found,  
A rare Receipt to make th' Infected sound:  
And knowing that the Almighty doth forbid,  
In Times of Dangers, fecrets should be hid;  
I thought it was my Duty to make known,  
This Catholic Medicine unto every one;  
That so their sad Distempers may be healed,  
The cruel natre of this ssad Disease,  
Is so otragious, that if speedy ease  
Be not Presecribed, the Patient must be lost,  
But here's a medicine without Price, or Cost;  
Therefore let those that are inclined to be  
My willing Patients, read, obeferve, and see  
That my Prescriptions are, they shall be good,  
And very cheap, not hindering them from food  
Or honest labour; neither need they doubt  
Restraint, but may with courage go about  
Lawful Occasions; therefore without a Bribe,  
Hearken with patience, whilft I thus Prescribe;  
Receipt.  
WArm Tears, distilled from a pensive Heart,  
With herb-of-grace, mixed with divinest art,  
Prepared in th' morning when the Light begins  
To show itself, not gathired in our Sins;  
But when the Sun of Grace hath spread his Rays,  
Then we must Gather hath spread his Rays,  
Then we must Gather it, and keep't with praife;  
It must be laid, where neither Air of Lust,  
Nor Heat of Envy, nor th' injurios Rust  
Of Malice can come near it, nor the Breath  
Of Covethousness infect, for sudden Death  
Will seize upon it, if we take not heed.  
'Tis also good (if possible) to Bleed,  
Both at the Eyes, and Heart, for if those veins  
Be not well breathed, the Physician's pains  
Will prove invalide; if occasion urge,  
The Patient must b' advis'd to take a Purge,  
Or elf a Vomit; When th' infected Blood  
Is cleansed, a pleasant Cordial will be good;  
But let the Patient not forget to call,  
With Thanks, unto the Sacred Hospital;  
And then he may with courage be affured  
The worst is past, and his Distemper cured:  
And if he keep a well compofed Will,  
He need not fear th' Apothecary's Bill;  
Each Item's a Receipt, and all his Cost,  
Returns to Profit, nothing can be lost  
Eut the Disease, which the great Chiron cures,  
Whilst the Physician all the pain endures.  
Oh happy Patieut (if the Doctor please)  
'Tis Health to fall in love with thy Disease!  
Oh teach me to be Sick, or I will make  
My fealf a Patient for the Doctor's sake!  
Oh! who is he that would not be content  
With a Disease, to be his Patient?  
He has an Antidote, that can expel  
All Griefs; 'tis dangerous sickness to be well:  
Oh make me sick to Death (I mean) of Sin,  
That having done, my Doctor may begin;  
Without all doubt, that Patient needs must thrive.  
That makes Affliction his Preparative:  
Oh! who would not Adore so blest a God?  
Good natured Children often kiss the Rod:  
And so, let us with Patience learn t' endure  
Our own Distempers, and not doubt the Cure;  
The Grand Physician will not spare his Skill,  
If we submit our felves unto his Will;  
The more our Patience labours to endure,  
The sooner will he make a perfec Cure;  
The sacred Scriptures this rare Cordial gives,  
To let us know that our Redeemer lives:  
He lives, who by his living gives us breath,  
He died, and we are living by his Death:  
Thus both in Life and ‛ Death we must confess,  
That He's the Author of our Happiness;  
He is that God, whose Cross mst be our sCrown,  
Whose shame our honour, whose reproach, renown;  
His Blood must be our Bath, his Wounds, our Cure;  
For 'tis his Certainty that makes us Sure:  
Then let us like the Ninevites, be found,  
Whose true Ropentance made them truly sound:  
THough as (like carelesst Ionas) now we lie  
In the Whales-belly of our Sins; let's cry  
As Ionas did, and Heaven will soon advance,  
ANd bless us with a quick Deliverance:  
Delays are dangerous, 'tis therefore good  
To take a Remedy, before the Blood  
Be choir infected, 'tis a sign the Cure  
Is difficult, and will not long endure  
A Physical oppose, let's therefore ftrive  
To qualify it by a Corrosive.  
A Bath of Tears is good, and will expel  
The black diseases of an Infidedl;  
The Chemistry of sighs, and doubled groans,  
Will melt those hearts, which sin hath turned to stones.  
But one thing more is singularly good,  
The dear Remembrance of our Saviors Blood;  
Nor will it be unto our Souls a loss,  
To take the Lignum vitae of his Cross;  
And that sick-Soul that knows how to procure  
The Balm of Gilliad, may (by Faith) azure  
Himself a Remedy, Tears mixed with Rue,  
Will make the Patient bid his Grief adieu.  
Finis.   

LONDON, Printed by Edward Crouch, dwelling on Snow-hill. 1665.