To give it prayse, I have not words enuffe:
If any Humour in your Braines be crept,
I'le fetch it out, as if your heads were swept.
Almost through Europe I have shewne my face
In every Towne, and every Market-place—
Behold this salve, (I do not use to lye)
Whole Hospitals there have been curde thereby.
I doe not stand heere like a tattar'd slave,
My Velvet, and my Chaine of Gold I have: