With such, not of the happiest kind,
Whose bowels threat to crack with wind
The Hypochondres here repose
Impatient for the cordial dose,
And children on the carpet brawl,
Till my spice biscuits calm the squall.
"I first review th' assembled tribe
Then walk off stately and prescribe,
When I consign to your quick sense
Th' appropriate med'cines to dispense, |
To all the classes in your view,
With gentle tone and caution due:
See then how much depends on you. | } |
Each case that asks superior art
I send into a room apart;
And there I never feel alarm;
I play no tricks and do no harm.
When I a desp'rate illness see,
For patients must not die with me,
I recommend them to repair
To goat's-milk and the country air;
And when such counsel they receive
They do not fail to take their leave,
Full of my candour and disdain
Of any little paltry gain.
Deep cuts, sore legs and gummy eyes,
With all the common casualties,
I with my healing dame bestow,
In her snug, secret cell below:
Indeed I've sometimes star'd to see
The wonders of her surgery.
—'Tis true 'mong doctors I'm not famous,
But still I'm not an Ignoramus;
For I can play a skillfull part
In elements of chymic art;
I give the drafts a varying hue,
To-day so red, to-morrow blue,
And touch them with a diff'rent savour,
To give a worse or better flavour, |
As it may suit, then change their name,
Though they may be the very same,
Both in their object and their aim. | } |
"It is with me a leading fashion
To play thus with imagination;
A symptom that doth never cease,