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301
The Bulletin.
9, Dowry Square, Hot-wells, May 29, 1845.
Hark!—the doctors come again,
Knock—and enter doctors twain—
Dr. Keeler, Dr. Blane:—
“Well, sir, how
Go matters now?
Please your tongue put out again!”
Meanwhile, t'other side the bed,
Doctor Keeler
Is a feeler
Of my wrist, and shakes his head:—
“Rather low, we're rather low!”
(Deuce is in't, an 'twere not so!
Arrowroot, and toast-and-water,
Being all my nursing daughter,
By their order, now allows me;
If I hint at more she rows me,
Or at best will let me soak a
Crust of bread in tapioca.)
“Cool and moist though, let me see,
Seventy-two, or seventy-three,
Seventy-four, perhaps, or so;
Rather low, we're rather low!
Now, what sort of night, sir, eh?
Did you take the mixture, pray?
Iodine and anodyne,
Ipecacuanha wine,
And the draught and pills at nine?”
PATIENT (loquitur).Knock—and enter doctors twain—
Dr. Keeler, Dr. Blane:—
“Well, sir, how
Go matters now?
Please your tongue put out again!”
Meanwhile, t'other side the bed,
Doctor Keeler
Is a feeler
Of my wrist, and shakes his head:—
“Rather low, we're rather low!”
(Deuce is in't, an 'twere not so!
Arrowroot, and toast-and-water,
Being all my nursing daughter,
By their order, now allows me;
If I hint at more she rows me,
Or at best will let me soak a
Crust of bread in tapioca.)
“Cool and moist though, let me see,
Seventy-two, or seventy-three,
Seventy-four, perhaps, or so;
Rather low, we're rather low!
302
Did you take the mixture, pray?
Iodine and anodyne,
Ipecacuanha wine,
And the draught and pills at nine?”
“Coughing, doctor, coughing, sneezing,
Wheezing, teazing, most unpleasing,
Till at length I, by degrees, in-
Duced ‘Tired nature's sweet restorer,’
Sleep, to cast her mantle o'er her
Poor unfortunate adorer,
And became at last a snorer.
Iodine and anodyne,
Ipecacuanha wine,
Nor the draughts did I decline;
But those horrid pills at nine!
Those I did not try to swallow,
Doctor, they'd have beat me hollow.
I as soon
Could gulp the moon,
Or the great Nassau balloon,
Or a ball for horse or hound, or
Bullet for an eighteen-pounder.”
303
“Well, sir— well, sir—we'll arrange it,
If you can't take pills, we'll change it;
Take, we'll say,
A powder grey,
All the same to us which way;
Each will do;
But, sir, you
Must perspire whate'er you do.
(Sudorific comes from sudo!)
Very odd, sir, how our wills
Interfere with taking pills!
I've a patient, sir, a lady
Whom I've told you of already,
She'll take potions,
She'll take lotions,
She'll take drugs, and draughts by oceans;
She'll take rhubarb, senna, rue;
She'll take powders grey and blue,
Tinctures, mixtures, linctures, squills,
But, sir, she will not take pills!
Now the throat, sir, how's the throat?”
PATIENT.
“Why, I can't produce a note!
I can't sound one word, I think, whole,
304
And they gobble,
Just like soapsuds down a sink-hole,
Or I whisper like the breeze,
Softly sighing through the trees!”
DOCTOR.
“Well, sir—well, sir—never mind, sir,
We'll put all to rights you'll find, sir,
Make no speeches,
Get some leeches;
You'll find twenty
Will be plenty,
Clap them on, and let them lie
On the pomum Adami;
Let them well the trachea drain,
And your larynx,
And your pharynx—
Please put out your tongue again!
Now the blister!
Ay, the blister!
Let your son, or else his sister,
Warm it well, then clap it here, sir,
All across from ear to ear, sir;
That suffices,
When it rises,
305
Rub a little oil of Croton:
Never mind a little pain!
Please put out your tongue again!
“Now, sir, I must down your maw stick
This small sponge of lunar caustic,
Never mind, sir,
You'll not find, sir,
I the sponge shall leave behind, sir,
Or the probang make you sick, sir,
I shall draw it back so quick, sir;
This I call my prime elixir!
How, sir! choking?
Pooh! you're joking—
Bless me! this is quite provoking!
What can make you, sir, so wheezy?
Stay, sir!—gently!—take it easy!
There, sir, that will do to-day.
Sir, I think that we may say
We are better, doctor, eh?
Don't you think so, Doctor Blane?
Please put out your tongue again!
Iodine and anodyne,
Ipecacuanha wine,
And since you the pills decline,
Draught and powder grey at nine.
306
I've a lady 'cross the way,
I must see without delay!”
[Exeunt Doctors.]
THE END.
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