Londons disease, and cure: being a soveraigne receipt against the plague, for prevention sake. / By John Qvarles, philo-medicus. Quarles, John, 1624-1665. 1665 Approx. 8 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04961 Wing Q133 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.4[122] 99884986 ocm99884986 182791

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04961) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182791) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:2[123]) Londons disease, and cure: being a soveraigne receipt against the plague, for prevention sake. / By John Qvarles, philo-medicus. Quarles, John, 1624-1665. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by Edward Crowch, dwelling on Snow-hill, London, : 1665. Verse: "THere's none so ignorant, I hope, but knowes ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library.

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eng Plague -- England -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. 2008-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-01 Sampled and proofread 2009-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
LONDONS Diſeaſe, and Cure: BEING A Soveraigne Receipt againſt the PLAGUE, for Prevention ſake. By JOHN QVARLES, Philo-Medicus THere's none ſo ignorant, I hope, but knowes, Medicines are good, as well in Verſe, as Proſe; Therefore conſulting with my Thoughts, I found, A rare Receipt to make th' Infected ſound: And knowing that the Almighty doth forbid, In Times of Dangers, fecrets ſhould be hid; I thought it was my Duty to make known, This Cath'lick Medicine unto every one; That ſo their ſad Diſtempers may be heal'd, The cruel natre of this ſsad Diſeaſe, Is ſo otragious, that if ſpeedy eaſe Be not Preſecrib'd, the Patient muſt be loſt, But here's a medicine without Price, or Coſt; Therefore let thoſe that are inclin'd to be My willing Patients, read, obeferve, and ſee That my Preſcriptions are, they ſhall be good, And very cheap, not hindring them from food Or honeſt labour; neither need they doubt Reſtraint, but may with courage go about Lawfull Occaſions; therefore without a Bribe, Harken with patience, whilft I thus Preſcribe;

WArm Tears, diſtilled from a penſive Heart, With herb-of-grace, mixt with divineſt art, Prepar'd in th' morning when the Light begins To ſhew it ſelf, not gathired in our Sins; But when the Sun of Grace hath ſpread his Rayes, Then we muſt Gather hath ſpread his Rayes, Then we muſt Gather it, and keep't with praife; It muſt be laid, where neither Aire of Luſt, Nor Heat of Envy, nor th' injurios Ruſt Of Malice can come near it, nor the Breath Of Covethouſneſs infect, for ſudden Death Will ſeize upon it, if we take not heed. 'Tis alſo good (if poſſible) to Bleed, Both at the Eyes, and Heart, for if thoſe veins Be not well breathed, the Phyſitians pains Will prove invalide; if occaſion urge, The Patient muſt b'advis'd to take a Purge, Or elfe a Vomit; When th'infected Blood Is clens'd, a pleaſant Cordial will be good; But let the Patient not forget to call, With Thanks, unto the Sacred Hoſpitall; And then he may with covrage be affur'd The worſt is paſt, and his Diſtemper cur'd: And if he keep a well compofed Will, He need not fear th' Apothecaries Bill; Each Item's a Receipt, and all his Coſt, Returns to Profit, nothing can be loſt Eut the Diſeaſe, which the great Chyron cures, Whilſt the Phyſitian all the pain indures. Oh happy Patieut (if the Doctor pleaſe) 'Tis Health to fall in love with thy Diſeaſe! Oh teach me to be Sick, or I will make My fealf a Patient for the Doctors ſake! Oh ! who is he that would not be content With a Diſeaſe, to be his Patient? He has an Antidote, that can expell All Griefs; 'tis dangerous ſick neſs to be well: Oh make me ſick to Death (I mean) of Sin, That having done, my Doctor may begin; Without all doubt, that Patient needs muſt thrive. That makes Affliction his Preparative: Oh ! who would not Adore ſo bleſt a God? Good natur'd Children often kiſs the Rod: And ſo, let us with Patience learn t' indure Our own Diſtempers, and not doubt the Cure; The Grand Phyſitian will not ſpare his Skill, If we ſubmit our felves unto his Will; The more our Patience labours to endure, The ſooner will he make a perfec Cure; The ſacred Scriptures this rare Cordial gives, To let us know that our Redeemer lives: He lives, who by his living gives us breath, He dy'd, and we are living by his Death: Thus both in Life and 'Death we muſt confeſs, That He's the Author of our Happineſs; He is that God, whoſe Croſs mſt be our ſCrown, Whoſe ſhame our honour, whoſe reproach, renown; His Blood muſt be our Bath, his Wounds, our Cure; For 'tis his Certainty that makes us Sure: Then let us like the Ninevites, be found, Whoſe true Ropentance made them truly ſound: THough as (like careleſst Jonas) now we lye In the Whales-belly of our Sins; let's cry As Jonas did, and Heav'n will foon advance, ANd bleſs us with a quick Deliverance: Delayes are dangerous, 'tis therefore good To take a Remedy, before the Blood Be quire infected, 'tis a ſign the Cure Is difficult, and will not long endure A Phyſicall oppoſe, let's therefore ftrive To quallifie it by a Corroſive. A Bath of Tears is good, and will expel The black diſeaſes of an Infidedl; The Chymiſtry of ſighs, and doubled groans, Will melt thoſe hearts, which ſin hath turn'd to ſtones. But one thing more is ſingularly good, The dear Remembrance of our Saviors Blood; Nor will it be unto our Souls a loſs, To take the Lignum vitae of his Croſs; And that ſick-Soul that knows how to procure The Balm of Gilliad, may (by Faith) aſure Himfelf a Remedy, Tears mixt with Rue, Will make the Patient bid his Grief adue. Finis.

LONDON, Printed by Edward Crowch, dwelling on Snow-hill. 1665.