The Four Hiimoars of Man, 139
Likewife the ufefull Slpeen, though not the belt,
Yet is a bowel call'd well as the reft:
The Liver, Stomack, owe their thanks of right,
The firft it drains, of th'laft quicks appetite.
Laughter (tho thou fay malice) flows from hence,
Thefe two in one cannot have refidence.
But thou moft grofly doft miftake to think
The Spleen for all you three was made a fink.
Of all the reft thou'ft nothing there to do,
But if thou haft, that malice is '" from you.
Again you often touch my fwarthy hue,
That black is black, and I am black tis true;
But yet more comely far I dare avow, [3 7 J
Then is thy torrid nofe or brazen brow.
But that which ftiews how high your fpight is bent
Is charging me to be thy excrement:
Thy loathfome imputation I defie.
So plain a flander needeth no reply.
When by thy heat thou'ft bak'd th}' felf to cruft.
And fo art call'd black Choler or aduft,
Thou witlefs think'ft that I am thy excretion,
So mean thou art in Art as in difcretion:"
But by your leave I'le let your greatnefs fee
What Officer thou art to us all three,
The Kitchin Drudge, the cleanfer of the finks
That cafts out all that man e're eats or drinks:
I owes it. «« comes.
» Thou do'ft affume mj name, wel be it jult; This tranfmutation is, but not excretion. Thou wants Philofophy, and vet dilcretion.
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