Who very vehemently bids us "throw
Bark to the Bow-wows", hated physic so,
It seem'd to share "the bitterness of Death":
Rhubarb—Magnesia—Jalap, and the kind—
Senna—Steel—Assa-foetida, and Squills—
Powder or Draught—but least her throat inclined
To give a course to boluses or pills;
No—not to save her life, in lung or lobe,
For all her lights' or all her liver's sake,
Would her convulsive thorax undertake,