Who hated John, and whom John hated?
’Tis, now, a necessary thing to say
That, at this juncture, Roger wasn’t well;
Poor Man! he had been rubbing, all the day,
His stomach with coarse towels:
And clapping trenchers, hot as hell,
Upon his bowels;
Where spasms were kicking up a furious frolick,
Afflicting him with mulligrubs and cholick.
He also had imbibe’d, to sooth his pains,