Paracelsus wanted skill
When he sought to cure that Ill:
No Pectorals like the Poets quill.
Here are Pills of every sort,
For the Country, City, Court,
Compounded and made up of sport.
If ’gainst Sleep and Fumes impure,
Thou, thy Senses would’st secure;
Take this, Coffee’s not half so sure.
Want’st thou Stomack to thy Meat,