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To Doctor Cademan,
Physitian to the Queene.
For thy Victorious cares, thy ready heart;
Thy so small tyranny to so much Art;
For visits made to my disease
And me, (Alas) not to my Fees:
For words, so often comforting with scope
Of learned reason, not perswasive hope:
For Med'cines so benigne, as seeme
Cordials for Easterne Queenes that teeme.
For setting now my condemn'd Body free,
From that no God, but Devill Mercurie:
For an assurance, I ne're shall
A forfeit be to'th Admirall;
Thy so small tyranny to so much Art;
For visits made to my disease
And me, (Alas) not to my Fees:
For words, so often comforting with scope
Of learned reason, not perswasive hope:
For Med'cines so benigne, as seeme
Cordials for Easterne Queenes that teeme.
For setting now my condemn'd Body free,
From that no God, but Devill Mercurie:
For an assurance, I ne're shall
A forfeit be to'th Admirall;
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