I’ll ease him of his complaint, and make her civil,
Or else will send her headlong to the devil.
Ribs, legs, or arms, when any’s broke, I’m sure
I presently of them will make a cure;
Nay, more than this by far, I will maintain,
If you should break your neck, I’ll cur’t again.
So here’s a doctor rare, who travels much at home,
Here take my pills, I cure all ills, past, present, and to come:
I in my time many thousands have directed,
And likewise have as many more dissected.