An Epigram to King Charles for an Hundred Pounds he sent me in my Sickness

Great Charles, among the holy gifts of grace,
Annexed to thy person and thy place,
'Tis not enough (thy piety is such)
To cure the call'd kings-evil with thy touch;
But thou wilt yet a kinglier mastery try,
To cure the poet's-evil, poverty:
And in these cures dost so thyself enlarge,
As thou dost cure our evil at thy charge.
Nay, and in this, thou show'st to value more
One poet, than of other folks ten score.
O piety, so to weigh the poors' estates!
O bounty, so to difference the rates!
What can the poet wish his king may do,
But that he cure the people's evil too?