In praise of Lessius his rule of health.

GOe now with some dareing drugg,
Baite thy disease, and while they tugg
Thou to maintaine their cruell strife,
Spend the deare treasure of thy life:
Goe take phisicke, doat upon
Some bigg-named composition,
The oraculous doctors mistick bills,
Certain hard words made into pills;
And what at length shalt get by these?
Onely a costlyer disease.
Goe poore man thinke what shall bee,
Remedie against thy remedie.
That which makes us have no need
Of Phisick thats Phisick indeed.
Harke hether, Reader, wouldst thou see
Nature her owne Physitian bee.
Wouldst see a man all, his owne wealth,
His owne Physick, his owne health?
A man whose sober soule can tell,
How to weare her garments well?
Her garments that upon her sit,
As garments should doe close and fit?
A well cloathed soule thats not opprest,
Nor choakt with what shee should bee drest?
A soule shearhed in a christall shrine,
Through which all her bright features shine?
As when a peece of wanton lawne,
A thinne aiereall vaile is drawne
O're beauties face, seeming to hide
More sweetly showes the blush'ng bride.
A soule whose intelectuall beames
No mistes doe maske no lazy steames?
A happy soule that all the way,
To heaven, hath a summers day?
Would'st thou see a man whose well warmed blood,
Bathes him in a genuine flood?
A man whose tuned humours bee,
A set of rarest harmony?
Wouldst see blith lookes, fresh cheeks beguile
Age, wouldst see December smile?
Wouldst see a nest of Roses grow
In a bed of reverend snow?
Warme thoughts free spirits, flattering
Winters selfe into a spring?
In summe, wouldst see a man that can
Live to bee old and still a man?