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“ Sad news in the papers !—God knows who's to blame, “ The Colonies seem to be all in a flame : “ This Stamp Act, no doubt, might be good for the Crown, “ But I fear 'tis a pill that will never go down.”

“What can Portugal mean?—Is she going to stir up “ Convulsions and heats in the bowels of Europe ? 6 "Twill be fatal if England relapses again, “ From the ill blood and humours of Bourbon and Spain.”

Says I, My good doctors, I can't understand Why the deuce you take so many patients in hand. “ You've a great deal of practice, as far as I find; “ And since ye’re come hither, do pray be so kind To write me down something that's good for the wind ; “ No doubt you are all of you great politicians, “ But at present my bowels have need of Physicians. “ Consider my case in the light it deserves, “ And pity the state of my stomach and nerves."

But a tight little doctor began a dispute About administrations, Newcastle and Bute; Talked much of economy, much of profuseness. Says another—“This case, which at first was a lİs become a Tenesmus ; and all we can do " Is to give him a gentle cathartic or two.

First clear off the phlegm, that adheres to the Plicæ,
“ Then throw in a med'cine that's pretty and spicy :-
A peppermint draught,—or a—Come, let's begone,
“We've another bad case to consider at one.
So thus they brushed off, each his cane at his nose,
When Jenny came in, who had heard all their

prose :
“ I'll teach them,” says she, “at their next consultation,
To come and take fees for the good of the nation.”
I could not conceive what a devil she meant,
But she seized all the stuff that the doctor had sent,
And out of the window she flung it down souce,
As the first politician went out of the house.
Decoctions and syrups around him all flew,
The pills, bolus, julep, and apozem too;
His wig had the luck a cathartic to meet,
And squash went the gallipot under his feet.
She said 'twas a shame I should swallow such stuff,
When my bowels were weak, and the physic so rough ;
Declared she was shocked—that so many should come

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To be doctored to death such a distance from home,
At a place where they tell you-that water alone
Can cure all distempers that ever were known.
But, what is the pleasantest part of the story,
She has ordered for dinner a piper and dory;
For to-day Captain Cormorant's coming to dine,
That worthy acquaintance of Jenny's and mine.
'Tis a shame to the army that men of such spirit
Should never obtain the reward of their merit;
For the Captain's as gallant a man, I'll be sworn,
And as honest a fellow, as ever was born.
After so many hardships and dangers incurred,
He himself thinks he ought to be better preferred.
And Roger, or—what is his name ? Nicodemus,
Appears full as kind, and as much to esteem us.
Our Prudence declares he's an excellent preacher,
And by night and by day is so good as to teach her ;
His doctrine, so sound, with such spirit he gives,
She ne'er can forget it as long as she lives.
I've told

you

before that he's often so kind,
To go out a riding with Prudence behind ;
So he frequently dines here without any pressing ;
And now to the fish he is giving his blessing.
And, as this is the case,-though I've taken a griper,
I'll venture to peck at the dory and piper.
And now, my dear Mother, I'm quite at a stand,
So I rest your most dutiful son to command.

LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.

COLMAN.* Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, Has seen “ Lodgings to Let” stare him full in the face :

" No

* The most successful comic author of his day was George Colman, the younger, who was born October 1762, and died in October 1836. modern dramatist,” says Mr Robert Chambers, “has added so many stock-pieces to the theatre as Colman, or imparted so much genuine mirth and humour to play-goers. His society was much courted ; and he was, like Sheridan, a favourite with George IV. George Colman, the author of The Jealous Wife, Clandestine Marriage, &c. was his father.

Some are good, and let dearly, while some, 'tis well kuown,
Are so dear and so bad, they are best let alone.
Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only;
But Will was so fat, he appeared like a tun,
Or like two single gentlemen rolled into one.
He entered his room, and to bed he retreated,
But all the night long he felt fevered and heated ;
And though heavy to weigh aş a score of fat sheep,
He was not by any means heavy to sleep.
Next night was the same, and the next, and the next,
He perspired like an ox, he was nervous and vexed ;
Week passed after week, till by weekly succession
His weakly condition was past all expression.
In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him,
For his skin, like a lady's loose gown, hung about him;
He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny;
I've lost many pounds-make me well—there's a guinea.
The doctor looked wise ; a slow fever he said,
Prescribed sudorifics and going to bed.
Sudorifics in bed, exclaimed Will, are humbugs !
I've enough of them here without paying for drugs.
Will kicked out the doctor; but when ill indeed,
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed ;
So calling his host, he said, Sir, do you know
I'm the fat single gentleman six months ago?
Look ye, landlord, I think, argued Will, with a grin,
That with honest intentions you first took me in ;
But from the first night, and to say it I'm bold,
I've been so long hot that I'm sure I've caught cold.
Quoth the landlord, Till now I ne'er had a dispute;
I've let lodgings ten years, I'm a baker to boot.
In airing your sheets, Sir, my wife is no sloven,
And
your

bed is immediately over my oven.
The oven, says Will! Says the Host, Why this passion ?
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion ;
Why so crusty, good Sir ! Zounds! cries Will, in a taking,
Who would not be crusty with half a year's baking ?

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THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY.

COLMAN.
A MEMBER of the Æsculapian line
Lived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne;
No man could ever gild a pill,

Or make a bill ;
Or mix a draught, or bleed or blister,
Or draw a tooth out of

your

head, Or chatter scandal by your bed,

Or, spread a plaster!
Of occupations these were quantum suff:
Yet still he thought the list not long enough ;

And therefore midwifery he chose to pin to it.
This balanced things : for if he hurled
A few score mortals from the world,

He made amends by bringing others into it.
His fame full six miles round the country ran ;

In short in reputation he was solus !
All the old women call'd him “ a fine man!”

His name was Bolus.
Benjamin Bolus, though in trade,

(Which often times will genius fetter,) Read works of fancy, it was said,

And cultivated the Belles Lettres. And why should this be thought so odd ?

Can't men have taste that cure a phthisic ? Of poetry, though patron god,

Apollo patronises physic. Bolus loved verse ; and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't. No opportunity he e'er let pass

Of writing the directions on his labels,

In dapper couplets-like Gay's Fables;
Or rather like the lines in Hudibras.
Apothecary's, verse ! and where's the treason ?

"Tis simple honest dealing ;-not a crime; When patients swallow physic without reason,

It is but fair to give a little rhyme.

He had a patient lying at death's door,
(Some three miles from the town, it might be four,)

To whom one evening Bolus sent an article,
In pharmacy, that's called cathartical,
And on the label of the stuff

He wrote verse,
Which one would think it clear enough

And terse : « When taken,

To be well shaken.Next morning, early, Bolus rose; And to the patient's house he goes

Upon his pad, Who a vile trick of stumbling had : It was indeed a very sorry hack;

But that's of course:

For what's expected from a horse,
With an apothecary on his back ?
Bolus arrived, and gave a double tap ;
Between a single and a double rap.
Knocks of this kind
Are given by gentlemen who teach to dance

By fiddlers and by opera-singers :
One loud, and then a little one behind,

As if the knocker fell by chance

Out of your fingers.
The servant lets him in with dismal face,
Long as a courtier's out of place

Portending some disaster.
John's countenance as rueful looked and grim,
As if the apothecary had physicked him,

And not his master. Well how's the patient ?” Bolus said.

John shook his head. « Indeed ?-hum !-ha!-that's

very

odd. “ He took the draught?”—John gave

nod! « Well—how ?–What then ?-Speak out, you dunce."

Why then,” says John, “we shook him once.” “ Zounds ! shake a patient, man--a shake won't do." “ No Sir-and so we gave him two."

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