Nor wished, nor cared, nor laughed, nor cried.
And so they lived, and so they died.
Matthew Prior.
THE REMEDY WORSE THAN THE DISEASE
I sent for Ratcliffe; was so ill,
That other doctors gave me over:
He felt my pulse, prescribed his pill,
And I was likely to recover.
But when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm’d the politician,