ht the list not long enough;
And therefore Midwifery he chose to pin to't.
This balance'd things:--for if he hurl'd
A few score mortals from the world,
He made amends by bringing others into't.

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, tho' in _trade_,
(Which oftentimes will Genius fetter)
Read works of fancy, it is said;
And cultivated the _Belles Lettres_.

And why should this be thought so odd?
Can't men have taste who cure a phthysic;
Of Poetry tho' Patron-God,
Apollo patronises physick.

Bolus love'd verse;--and took so much delight in't,
That his prescriptions he resolve'd 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 simply honest dealing:--not a crime;--
When patients swallow physick 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 call'd cathartical.

And, on the label of the stuff,
He wrote this verse;
Which, one would think, was 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 arrive'd; and gave a doubtful 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 their 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 look'd, and grim,
As if th' Apothecary had physick'd him,--
And not his master.

"Well, how's the Patient?" Bolus said:--
John shook his head