It
not only occasions violent Distempers in a great many, but also
sometimes _sudden Death_ in some; for which Reason, if it does not
deserve the Name of _Poison_, what else it would be called I can
neither learn nor conjecture.
`An ungrateful Burthen lies upon generous Physicians. Those
who guzzle burning Spirits Night and Day, according to their
detestable Custom, perpetually tippling _liquid Fire_, when they have
extinguished all Concoctions, enervated all the Solids, and corrupted
the Liquids; and the Fabrick a long while staggering is now ready to
fall, then they seek our Help. What is to be done? The Office of a
Scavenger is to be performed; and perhaps when the Drain is made, and
by chance the Matter retrieved, they presently return to the same
Practice again, as a Dog to the Vomit, or a Sow to the Mire; and
prodigal of their Lives, they shorten the remaining part of their
Days. What must Physicians, or what can Divines do? Medicines can
be of no Service, and they will not hearken to Counsel. All Things
will be in vain, they rush into the Embraces of the wicked Poison,
they become stupid and blind, deafer to Reason and Counsel than
_Marpassus's Rocks_, they thirst forever, and drink as if bit by the
_Dipsas_, and the more they drink the more they covet of the _deadly
distilled Water_, with which, in as much Haste as they can, they
close the Scene, even at the Point of Death calling for the Bottle.
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