CANTO VI

IT often happens as we range

Through life, an unexpected change,

With sudden stroke may pain destroy

And turn our thoughts from grief to joy:

Or as some shock cuts off relief

May turn a flow of joy to grief.

Thus our days' varying system bears

Th' alternate play of hopes and fears:

Nay, when more pleasant views provoke,

May turn our gravity to joke.

Besides, as in the Drama's art,

The scene displays the varying part,

So apt are we to play the fool,

We serve for our own ridicule:

And when sly Fortune's pleas'd to vary

Our progress with some strange vagary,

We oft become such merry elves

To burst with laughter at ourselves.

Thus as Quæ Genus pac'd the room,

Reflecting on the time to come,

And all the heap of promis'd good

By Anodyne to be bestow'd;

That he was to be cramm'd with wealth,

And turn all sickness into health;

His fancy, tickled at the thought,

He set each serious wish at nought,

And laugh'd till his sides seem'd to crack,

To think he should become a Quack.

But when he had indulg'd the joke

Which this idea might provoke,

He thought more gravely of the case

And vow'd to take the proffer'd place:

At all events, he could but try

This self-same scheme of quackery:

At least some knowledge he should gain,

And knowledge never comes in vain.

Indeed, what harm, if he succeed in

The arts of cupping and of bleeding?

The lancet's power to command

Might be of use in any hand,

And e'en in any hand might save

A forlorn suff'rer from the grave;

While he might well instructed be

In principles of Pharmacy.

He also felt that application

Might fit him for a better station;

That in some distant country town,

He might a Galen's title own:

Where, if his fortune did not vary,

He might strut an Apothecary.

Thus between gravity and smile

Conceit play'd its full part the while,

Though not without a view to gains

Which might reward his present pains:

Indeed he knew the means that made 'em,

For he had for Sir Jeffery paid 'em:

As while for potion, pill and plaister

A golden fee awaits the master;

He found it was a useful plan,

With lesser coin, to fee the man,

Who had the means to lift the latch

That did the secret wish dispatch;

And could th' impatience set to rest

Of the more eager, grumbling guest.

—Thus, with lively hope high-season'd,

Quæ Genus walk'd about and reason'd;

And, in his Pericranium fast,

This grave opinion fix'd at last:

If not in honour, yet in purse,

He might go further and fare worse,—

But if no other good were done,

There might be sure a world of fun.

with a quack doctor

Drawn by Rowlandson

Quæ Genus with a Quack Doctor.

Patients that morning had been plenty,
Not less it seems than five-and-twenty;
This the old woman smiling stated,
And told him that the dinner waited.
The table shew'd a plenteous treat
Of fish and fowl and sav'ry meat,
But poor Quæ Genus scarce could eat.		}
For, though prepar'd for any diet,
His hunger soon repos'd in quiet.
The Doctor fed, but talk'd the while,
Of gastric juice and flowing bile;
Of kidneys and o'ergrowing liver,
As of sore eyes now cur'd for ever;
What his fam'd Nostrum had perform'd,
And how it had the bowels storm'd
Of guttling Gourmand with such force,
That it a passage made of course,
Which three great Doctors tried in vain,
With all their boasted skill to gain.
Besides our hero did not know
How cookery went on below,
And he might think, poor dainty sinner,
That the same hands had dress'd the dinner,
Which were entrusted with the care
Each daily med'cine to prepare;
To melt the salves and spread anon
The cerates and diacolon;
That did the drugs or grind or pound,
And dress the sore leg's running wound:
But so it was, a sick sensation
Check'd all his powers of mastication,
And caus'd his stomach to resent
The very taste of nutriment:
Nay his sad appetite approv'd
When all the dishes were remov'd.
—They therefore soon had ceas'd to dine
And o'er the second pint of wine
The bargain clos'd with Anodyne.		}
What that was, it is fit to know,
And the verse now will briefly show.
Quæ Genus had made up his mind
Not to his interest to be blind;
But in the game that path pursue
Which prudence says we ought to do,
Nor to let scruples overpower
Th' advantage of the passing hour,
And yet that artifice restrain
Whose daily efforts are for gain:
In short to take the middle plan,
Which, as the world is us'd to scan,
Marks what is call'd an Honest Man.		}
He might not hesitate complying
With a small spice of useful lying
That idle questions might disarm,
Do some slight good, but never harm,
Afford a sentimental grace
To conversation's common place,
And give a customary aid
To all the retail slang of trade.
With mind thus settled and prepar'd
He Anodyne's first lecture heard.
And as it surely was the best,
We shall pass over all the rest.