VISITOR, PHYSICIAN, AND PATIENT.
Veris miscens falsa.—
Seneca in Herc. furente.
VISITOR.
I’ll know no more;—the Heart is torn
By Views of Woe, we cannot heal;
Long shall I see these Things forlorn,
And oft again their Griefs shall feel,
As each upon the Mind shall steal;
That wan Projector’s mystic Style,
That lumpish Idiot leering by,
That peevish Idler’s ceaseless Wile,
And that poor Maiden’s half-form’d Smile,
While struggling for the full-drawn Sigh!—-
I’ll know no more.
PHYSICIAN.
— Yes, turn again;
Then speed to happier Scenes thy Way,
When thou hast view’d, what yet remain,
The Ruins of Sir Eustace Grey,
The Sport of Madness, Misery’s Prey:
But he will no Historian need,
His Cares, his Crimes will he display,
And shew (as one from Frenzy freed)
The proud-lost Mind, the rash-done Deed.
That Cell, to him is Greyling Hall:—
Approach; he’ll bid thee welcome there;
Will sometimes for his Servant call,
And sometimes point the vacant Chair:
He can, with free and easy air,
Appear attentive and polite;
Can veil his Woes in Manners fair,
And Pity with Respect excite.
PATIENT.