Written in the Window of a Lady’s Chamber, who on a slight Indisposition sent for S. J. S.
The Doctor more than Illness we should fear;
Sickness precedes, and Death attends his Coach,
Agues to Fevers rise, if he appear,
And Fevers grow to Plagues at his Approach.
On Miss Green.
What gives the pleasant Mead its Grace,
What spreads at Spring Earth’s smiling Face,
What jolly Hunters chuse to wear,
Gives Name to her whose Chains I bear.