In Fig the Prize-fighter by day delight,
And sup with Colly Cibber ev'ry night.
Should I perchance be fashionably ill,
I'd send for Misaubin, and take his pill.
I should abhor, though in the utmost need,
Arbuthnot, Hollins, Wigan, Lee, or Mead:
But if I found that I grew worse and worse,
I'd turn off Misaubin and take a Nurse.
How oft, when eminent physicians fail,
Do good old womens remedies prevail?