University of Virginia Library

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236

A Melancholy Theme on a dismal Disaster,
In a Grubstreet Poem, by Grubstreet Poetaster.

Three Doctors of late
Held a learned Debate
On a desperate Case of a Lamb o' the State;

Where each shot his Bolt,
And on the Result
Did declare they opin'd the Distemper occult.

Tho my Story be late,
And thought out of date,
We cannot too often great Actions repeat.

Beau H---s fresh from School,
A new sharpen'd Tool,
Was summoned first to be on the Roll.

H---s active and great,
Ad omne parate,
Had κατ' εξοκην the Dispensing of Fate.

So he led the Dance,
A la mode of France,
And (without ever thinking) directed the Lance:

But hand over head,
Did attempt and proceed
(At all peradventure) this Lamb for to bleed.

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237

By which sage Advice
He was bled in a trice,
To shew the Dispatch of an expert Novice.

Now the Deed being done,
The grim Fact to atone,
Our great Æsculape did fall in a Swoon.

Who by sympathick Touch,
Having acted too much,
Was strangely affected, his Sense it was such.

And being put to Bed,
As one almost dead,
Did order himself forthwith to be bled.

Which shew'd he would do
As he'd be done unto,
To bleed, as he bled, whether needed or no.

As Erostrate's great Name
Is still living in Fame,
Who did put the Temple-Diana in Flame.

H---s only desir'd
(By Ambition fir'd)
To gain some Repute before he expir'd.

Next G---bb---s tho muddy,
And always in Study,
His Thoughts being quicken'd with a thing that is ruddy,

Did stir up his Muse
To Action and Use,
And approv'd all H---s had done at fast and loose:

Yet added his Mite,
By Directions to write,
Did Clysters and Cupping and Cordials endite.

But acting too fast,
Growing qualmish at last,
He was forc'd to retire for needful Repast.

So R---t---ff was next,
And (tho formerly vext)
Was persuaded his Science to spend on the Text;

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238

Having Wine first to drink,
It whet him to think,
Especially being well sweetned with Chink.

But the Fever malignant
Did puzzle Skill pregnant,
'Twas-so very putrid and super-regnant:

That off o' the Hooks,
You might guess by their Looks,
They found nought cou'd prevail that was in their Books.

So these Magi's next part
Boldly was to assert,
That (since he must die) 'twas according to Art.

But now to find out
And bring it about,
The Mob to persuade and the Plebeian Rout;

He must be dissected,
And with care inspected,
To report all Parts were with Matter infected.

And avouch no Mistake
Such Learning cou'd make,
Three famous Epistles for these Doctors sake,

Must be publish'd in Print,
Up and down to be sent,
Composed of Words, without Argument.

That he died of a Rash
With eating of Trash,
Which is a sufficient Account for your Cash.

But such frail Excuse
Is of no force or use,
(The Mischief once done) Folk to disabuse.

If the Counsel were good
In such case to let Blood;
What needed feign'd Words, ne'er before understood?

For Rash is a Name
No Author does claim,
But is true modern Cant to cover a Shame.

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239

By common Instinct,
Almost all Men do think,
The stirring this matter has made it to stink.

And Silence were better,
Than from each a Letter,
To make an O yes to smother the matter.

To do Penance in Sheet,
In some cases is meet,
And by Civil Law still esteemed discreet.

But why our Physicians
On different Conditions,
In a Sheet should appear to take off Suspicions,

No Man can divine,
But their Thoughts do incline
To believe it was Ignorance, Madness or Wine.

Some to get a Name,
Do publish their Shame,
And by vain Excuses their Errors proclaim.

Qui ante non cavet, post dolebit.
Felix quem faciunt aliena Pericula cautum.
Whoso improves not his Spring, may be forc'd to repent it in Autumn.