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The works of Mr. Thomas Brown

Serious and Comical, In Prose and Verse; In four volumes. The Fourth Edition, Corrected, and much Enlarged from his Originals never before publish'd. With a key to all his Writings

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To the Cheapside Quack; occasion'd by this Verse in the Satyr against Wit.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To the Cheapside Quack; occasion'd by this Verse in the Satyr against Wit.

‘Who with more ease can cure, than C**ch kill.

By a Gentleman whom Dr. C***lb***ch had cur'd of the Gout.
How durst thy railing Muse, vain Wretch, pretend
In base Lampoons thus to abuse my Friend!
Whose sacred Art has freed me from my Pains,
And broke a haughty Tyrant's stubborn Chains?
Keep off, for if thou com'st within my Clutches,
I'll baste thy Knighthood with my quondam Crutches,
The gen'rous Wine that does my Sorrows drown,
The charming Cælia that my Nights does crown,
The manly pleasures of the sporting Fields,
The gay delights the pompous Drama yields;
All this, and more, to his great Skill I owe,
Such Blessings can thy boasted Helps bestow?
The Snuff of Life, perhaps thy feeble Art
May fondly lengthen to thy Patients smart;

90

But Health no more 'tis in thy Pow'r to give,
Than thy dull Muse can make her Heroes live.
Ev'n War and Plague of killing to arraign
In thee, is most nonsensical and vain:
Thee, who a branded Killer art declar'd
In both Capacities of Quack and Bard.
Whatever Sots to thy Prescriptions fly,
For their vain Confidence, are sure to die;
And whate'er Argument thy Muse employs,
Her awkward, stupid Management destroys.
Death with sure Steps thy Doses still attends,
And Death too follows, whom thy Muse commends,
What can escape thy all-destroying Quill
When ev'n thy Cordials, and thy Praises kill?
Thy Mother, sure, when in Despair and Pain
She brought thee forth, thought of the Murd'rer Cain.