1The Lyon that of late Soe Domineer’d
2And, of his Subjects was not lov’d but fear’d
3Being Cloyd with Luxurie is Sick at last
4Then Doctor Fox
is Sent for all in hast 5Hee Shakes the Glass
and’s head, then feels his Puls’ 6And straight prescribes a Medicine Revuls
7The Lyon trembles every vein did beat
8The Doctor Sighing Said the danger’s great
9The Lyon Pants, could hardly draw his breath
10None like A Tyrant is Soe fraid of Death
11The Doctor that did mind nought but his gain
12Said Sir (I pray Sir) wherabout’s your pain
13His Highnes Said, Some time I’m very chill
14Then burn, then Swet, doth down my Face distill
15The Symptome’s good the Doctor Smileing Said
16Your Highnes Shall doe well bee not afraid
17There is A Sort of people ’bout your Court
18They call them Apes, that oft have made you Sport
19Their blood is Soveraign for your diseas
21You know the Royall Eagle finds it good
22In his ould Age hee lives by Sucking blood
23Nay if you’r loth, great Kings have don the Same
24For which they live Still in the book of Fame
25For fatting of their Nobles up in Cages
26Eating their Mummie
with the blood of Pages 27To an old Tyrant Melancholly grown
28Noe Musick pleaseth but the dying groan
29Of Innocents, then Straight the Apes were Kil’d
30The Lyon Easd, The Doctors purse was Fil’d
31From Such A Tyrant Heaven deliver mee
32And Such A Doctor let mee never See.