Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/190

180 Little's the odds betwixt such a God, and that Which atheist Lewis wore upon his hat.' Thus you blaspheme, and rave; but pray, sir, try What comforts my weak reason can apply, Who never yet read Plutarch, hardly saw, And am but meanly versed in Seneca. In cases dangerous, and hard of cure, We have recourse to Scarborough, or Lower; But if they don't so desperate appear, We trust to meaner doctors' skill and care. If there were never in the world before So foul a deed, I'm dumb, not one word more; In God's name, then, let both your sluices flow, And all the extravagance of sorrow show; And tear your hair, and thump your mournful breast, As if your dearest firstborn were deceased.