Commendatory verse 3

TO Praise your Healing Art would be in vain;The Health you give, prevents the Poet's Pen.'Sufficiently confirm'd is your Renown,And I but fill the Chorus of the Town.That let me wave, and only now Admire,The dazling Rays of your Poetick Fire:Which its diffusive Virtue does dispense,In flowing Verse, and elevated Sense.

The Town, which long has swallow'd foolish Verse,Which Poetasters ev'ry where rehearse;Will mend their Judgment now, refine their Taste,And gather up th' Applause they threw in waste.The Play-house shan't Encourage false Sublime,Abortive Thoughts, with Decoration-Rhime.

The Satyr of Vile Scribblers shall appearOn none, except upon themselves severe:While yours Contemns the Gall of Vulgar Spight;And when you seem to Smile the most, you Bite.

Tho. Cheek.