To my Friend Dr. G——th, the Author of The Dispensary

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 appear On 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.