Classic Poem

Take a good gelding Colour Baye,
A Chestnutt, or a dapple Graye:
Well Winded, barrelld round & sound;
And (pales except) that knowes no bound;
Mount him when Larks salute the morne
Then let your Huntsman's Bugle home,
Convent a pack of hounds well flewd,
Spotted with sand, or blackt, or blew'd.
Whose thunder in the Vale or Wood.
Turn's gowtie Whey Curds into blood.
That swells the Veines so high & hote,
It clearely runns without a knott
Marke when your palfrey foam's & bleeds
How the cold drilling Sapp that breeds
Your paine, & tickling creep's about
Your ioincts; in sweat comes trick'ling out.
No longer naturall but become
Hence forth a Gowte ad placitum.
This medcine, or this Counsill twice
Take everie Weeke; T'is not of Nice ,
Nor all allow'd; yet neare your T RENI
Much Sounder is then theirs was meant