Some saye I made the batthes at Bathe: And made therefore two tunnes of brasse: And other twayne seuen saltes that haue In them, but these be made of glasse With sulphur filde, and other things, Wylde fire, saltgem, salte peter eke: Salte armoniake, salte Alchime, Salte commune, and salte Arabecke. Salte niter mixid with the rest, In these fowre tunnes by portions right: Fowre welles to laye them in were dreste, Wherin they boyle both daye and night. The water springes them round about, Doth ryse for aye and boyleth stil: The tunnes within and eke without, Do all the welles with vapours fill. So that the heate and clensing powre, Of Sulphur and of salts and fyre: Doth make the bathes eche pointed houre To helpe the sickly health desyre. These bathes to soften sinewes haue Great vertue and to scoure the skin: From Morphew white and black to saue, The bodies faint are bathde therein. For lepry, scabs, and sores are olde, For scurfes, and botch, and humors fall: The bathes haue vertues manyfolde, If God giue grace to cure them all. The ioyntes are swelde, and hardned milte: And hardned liuer, palseis paine, The poxe and itche, if worke thou wilt, By helpe of God it heales againe. Shall I renege I made them then? Shall I denye my cunning founde? By helpe I had of learned men, Those worthy welles in gratefull grounde? I will do so: for God gaue grace, Whereby I knew what nature wrought: And lent me lore to finde the place, By wisedome where those wells I sought. Which once confest lo here my harme, Eschewe the like if thou be wyse: Let neuer will thy wits becharme, Or make the chaunge of kinde deuise. For if the fishe would learne to goe, And leaue to swim against his vre: When he were quite the waters fro, He could not swim you may be sure. Or if the beast would learne to flie, That had no plumes by nature lent: And get him wynges as earst did I, Would not thinke you it him repent? Though Magike Mathematicall, Make wooden birdes to flye and soare: Eke brasen heads that speake they shall, And promise many marueiles more. Yet sith it swarues from Nature’s will, As much as these that I recite: Refuse the fondnes of such skill, Doth ay with death the proufe requite. I deemde I could more soner frame, My selfe to flye then birdes of wood: And ment to get eternall fame, Which I esteemde the greatest good. I deckt my selfe with plumes and wynges, As here thou seest in skilfull wise: And many equall poysing thinges To ayde my flight, to fall or rise. Thou thinkste an arte that seldome vsde, In hand I tooke, and so it was: But we no daunger then refusde, So we might bring our feates to passe.