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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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On the Death of Dr. Kirleus.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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On the Death of Dr. Kirleus.

Ye Ghosts of Trigg, old Saffold, and Ponteus,
Arise! Arise! to meet the Great KIRLEUS:
And ye kind Damsels of this sinful Town,
Us'd to dispense Love's Joys for Half a Crown,
Lament, for now your Trusty Friend is gone.
Ye Holborn Bullies strow his Herse with Roses,
For to his Heav'nly Skill you owe your Noses,
Weep, Cupid weep, nor thy just Sorrow smother,
For, Child thou'dst better far have lost thy Mother.

100

With Rev'rend Kirle Love's Power will fall away,
His Empire lessen, and his Strength decay.
Thy Pills, Old Bard, in spite of State and Kirk,
Ev'n on the Sabbath-day it self wou'd Work:
And Sinners brought, (so Righteous was thy Sentence)
To Pensive Stool of Sorrowful Repentance.
Since Death on thee has laid her Fingers Icy,
Ipse te Pinus, ipse flevere Myricæ.
And Sympathetick Fits in mournal state,
With Tears of Turpentine bewail'd thy Fate.
Thou never did'st reject poor daggled Miss,
Altho' she Sued in forma Pauperis.
Grave Shop-keepers were set up by thy Aid,
And many a Sound Divine by thee was made.
In Term, and out of Term, Kirle serv'd the Nation,
And knew no Intervals of dull Vacation.
Say what you will, this matter of true Fact is,
That few exceeded him in Chamber-practise.
Lawyers in Crowds to his fam'd Mansion prest,
In hopes to have their Cause by him redrest:
For none knew better how to make an end on't,
'Twixt Plantiff Counseller, and Clap Defendant.
Tho' the Disease prov'd ne'er so stiff and cross,
He soon cou'd check it with a Noli Pross.
Young Clerks, when stray'd from Noverint Universi,
By him were Cur'd; and was not that a Mercy?
He was Loves Shre've, and prove Infection,
Chas'd Ulcers by a Potion of Ejection,
And as for th'oldest Ills, knew how to scare 'em,
By marching with a Posse Pillularum.
Methinks I still behold Majestick Kirle,
With Solemn Air his Belgick Whiskers twirle,
Wrapt in Blue Rug methinks I hear him Talk,
And prole for Customers in Grays-Inn-Walk.
But why fond hopes shou'd I thus feed in vain?
He's gone, alas! and ne'er will come again.
Since then he has left us for a better place,
Remember, Gentlemen, your Friend John Case.