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doctor's first rhyme would make any Jew sick: I know it has made a fine lady in blue sick, For which she is gone in a coach to Killbrew sick, Like a hen I once had, from a fox when she flew sick: Last Monday a lady at St. Patrick's did spew sick: And made all the rest of the folks in the pew sick, The surgeon who bled her his lancet out drew sick, And stopt the distemper, as being but new sick. The yacht, the last storm, had all her whole crew sick; Had we two been there, it would have made me and you sick: A lady that long'd, is by eating of glew sick; Did you ever know one in a very good Q sick? I'm told that my wife is by winding a clew sick; The doctors have made her by rhyme and by rue sick. There's a gamester in town, for a throw that he threw sick, And yet the old trade of his dice he'll pursue sick; I've known an old miser for paying his due sick; At present I'm grown by a pinch of my shoe sick. And what would you have me with verses to do sick? Send rhymes, and I'll send you some others in lieu sick. Of rhymes I have plenty. And therefore send twenty. Answer'd the same day when sent, Nov. 23. I desire