Book II, Satire 4

WOrthie were Galen to be weighed in gold,
Whose help doth sweetest life & helth vphold
Yet by S. Escnlape he sollemne swore,
That for diseases they were neuer more,
Fees neuer lesse, neuer so little gaine,
Men giue a groate and aske the rest againe.
Groats-worth of health, can anie leech allot?
Yet should he haue no more that giues a groate:
Should I on each sicke plliow leane my brest.
And grope the pulse of euerie mangie wrest:
And spie out maruels in each Vrinall:
And rumble vp the filths that from them fall,
And giue a Dosse for euerie disease,
In prescripts long and tedious Recipes:
All for so leane reward of Art and me?
No Horse-leach but will looke for larger fee.
Meane while if chaunce some desp'rate patient die,
Com'n to the Period of his destinie:
(As who can crosse the fatall resolution,
In the decreed day of dissolution:)
Whether ill tendment, or recurelesse paine,
Procure his death; the neighbours all complaine,
Th'unskilfull leech murdred his patient,
By poyson of some foule Ingredient.
Hereon the vulgar may as soone be brought
To Socrates-his poysoned Hemlock-drought,
As to the wholsome Iulap, whose receat
Might his diseases lingring force defeat.
If nor a dramme of Triacle soueraigne,
Or Aqua vitae, or Sugar Candian,
Nor Kitchin-cordials can it remedie,
Certes his time is come, needs mought he die.
Were I a leech, as who knowes what may be,
The liberall man should liue, and carle should die.
The sickly Ladie, and the gowtie Peere
Still would I haunt, that loue their life so deare.
Where life is deare, who cares for coyned drosse?
That spent, is counted gaine, and spared, losse:
Or would coniure the Chymick Mercurie,
Rise from his hors-dung bed, and vpwards flie:
And with glasse-stils, and sticks of Iuniper,
Raise the Black-spright that burnes not with the fire:
And bring Quintessence of Elixir pale,
Out of sublimed spirits minerall.
Each powdred graine raunsometh captiue kings,
Purchaseth Realmes, and life prolonged brings.