@3Lockly spits apace, the rheum he calls it, But no drop@1 (@3though often urged@1) @3he straineth From his thirsty jaws, yet all the morning And all day he spits, in ev'ry corner; At his meals he spits, at ev'ry meeting; At the bar he spits before the fathers; In the court he spits before the graces; In the church he spits, thus all profaning With that rude disease, that empty spitting: Yet no cost he spares, he sees the doctors, Keeps a strict diet, precisely useth Drinks and baths drying, yet all prevails not. 'Tis not China@1 (@3Lockly@1), @3Salsa Guacum, Nor dry Sassafras can help, or ease thee; 'Tis no humour hurts, it is thy humour.@1 |