Doctor Cooper at work upon Dauncey's bones: and Cook licking his fingers after his dose and pill.

Doctor COOPER at Work Upon DAUNCEY'S Bones : AND COOK licking his FINGERS After his Dose and Pill . O For the Doctor 's lines , or Cleveland's , Dauncey To truss thee in , how bravely would I haunse thee , Then like a Jack o' Lent the first of March , In Cuerpo thou should'st hang under some Arch , There to be play'd on by the wind , and noise Of Fish-wives , Orange-wenches , and the Boyes . Was 't not enough the brethren felt his whip So smart and keen , but he must make thee skip Thou Jackanapes ? think'st thou , thou piteous elf , To draw his anger on thy single self , And rescue so a number ? foul-mouth no , You are beneath him , hee 's more worth than so . Lord , what a holy thing is want of clothes . How it keeps Balladers from drink and oaths ! When there 's no more to pawn , an oath were vain , Your words will go as far in Chart'r ' ouse lane . Thou seem'st boy to have taken his advice And gone to school agen , and thou art wise In doing so , thou may'st be of his stables , Th' art at the Dunghill now in AEsop's Fables . Your mine 's Hell deep , we give a guesse what 's in 't , Poets w' are sure send nothing to the mint . W' are pleas'd to see you wince , y 'ave a gauld hide , Your own breath stinks when 't is to you apply'd . If your own words refounded be accurst , Your meaning was not wholsome at the first . Mark how this saucy Rascal 'gins his prate , As though the Doctour were an advocate OF foul debauchery : when in no mans hearing He ever spoke of drunkennesse or swearing ; Nor thinks there can be such a sin in fashion I' th Clergy , 't is hatch'd in your Imagination : There 't is ye slanderous villains that ye frame An odious abuse , and then declame . So I have seen a Coward draw his sword Against a Post , and every blow a word ; Now if thou wer 't a man , I 'de have thee here , And then again he cryes I 'de have thee there . Bring forth your swearers , and your drunkards too , Or on my word this Knight o' th post are you . I a've a Physician that without perhaps Shall cure your mouth secure of after claps . Down o' your knees , thank God , and thank me too , 'T is well , 't is well , now Gallows claim thy due ; And when the Surgeons chest has brought you sir Back from that tree , into their Theatre , The Doctor for a Lecture shall not stick , To send your bones unto the Devil to pick. You might have seen , had you been so inclin'd , ( But as the saying is , hasty Currs are blind ) The Doctor knew your Asse's meaning sir , And needs not you for an Interpreter . We like no coxeing friend , nor ever will , Joab and Judas both did kisse and kill . Had Griffin bray'd against a man or two , Or on a County where such things they do , His Libel might have gone untax'd : but now To write at randome thus , and to allow A roving Kite with full spread wings to fly Over the Nation , carrying infamy Thus undetermin'd ; Dauncey 't is too much , Ill minds conclude the Clergy all are such . This mischief he has done , and as we mention , We had but 's own word for his good intention . This has your pious soul done , that can't drink Yon say , but shall I tell you what I think ? What I have heard ? Danncey I will take leave , For all your affidavit , t'undeceive My silly Countrymen , who live in doubt Some Minister of worth set this Cry out ; Whose spirit bleeds within him for the sin That yet the people , and the Clergy's in . But come chear up my hearts , 't is no such matter , This fellow in Divinity does but smatter , Hangs on the Presse , and as his learning 's small , His pay's ten groats a ballad , and some Ale : Which not one Stationer alone does pay for But all the Crowd , which he goes first to stay for ; The Common spunge , a fellow of no reck'ning , Shall follow you to an Alehouse but for beck'ning . And be brought out agen perhaps . But How ! What do I see , Dauncey , the grizly brow Of Goblin Truth , Fathers in Truth , the thing Undid the Church , and cut the throat o' th King ? Choak us no more you R— with your minc'd meat , Fathers , feed's at discretion , we will eat , I and give thanks too for your institution , And call you fathers without diminution , Conservers of Gods Oracles , bring these fellows Truth to confesse , where they should do 't to 'th Gallows . And mark it Dauncey , see how thou art catch'd , As if thine own lye to betray thou 'dst watch'd ; When with comparison thou would'st up-cry The faith of Griffin , As hath no reply . But Mr. Dauncey , now y 'ave shew'd your lack Of wit and art , let me again go back , And view the subject of your declamation Not against things , but vices O this Nation . Are vices nothing ? and 's all this ado Made about nothing , by you Puppies two . Now you begin to belch up your disgrace , And spit foul Language in the Doctor 's face ; VVhat are you proud of , that you thus be-Asse us , And knave us bluntly , is 't Land in Parnassus ? Who would not swear you 'r drunk ? it is no ruth To conscience for a man to swear the Truth . Would'st thou know what thou art ? thou canst not miss't , In the first Chapter of the Alchymist , Where Sub●l , Doll , and Face do seem to me Rayling , to conjure for a name for thee . There read thy self , th' are thine all , and if 't be Thy chance to scape a sadder destiny , VVhen with the Stationers thou hast suck'd so long Scot-free of Ale , as t'other has , whose tongue Thou now defendest , mayst thou by good prayers Rise by degrees , from Link-boy , to the Players ; To be their book-keeper , and then grown bold , Upon thy parts , when thou art blind and old , Presume to write a play in thy last age , And have it basely hiss'd off o' the stage , For which thy heart must break , if it break not This minute , for thus having play'd the Sot . We are ingenuous , and do not deride Your poverty , you Knaves , no , but your pride ; And cannot choose but laugh , to see the Saints Have drunken Atheists to defend their plaints . So exit Dauncey . — Now comes Cook in fury , Lick-spit o' th Law : speak sirrah to the Jury , There you may find a dozen of the name You give the Doctor , ( Caterpillar of fame : ) Beat me this Buckram Rogue , Falstaffe , to seven . Nay if thou wilt , beat him into eleven , And if they have no better manners then , Send them to me , I 'le beat them all agen . Knaves that do nought but quirk upon his Calling , And quit their cause ; 't is time the Asse left bawling . Martial . Ep. Dic tandem aliquid de tribus Capellis .