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My lord, too, half his time attending,
O'er his sick fav'rite kindly bending,
Administers himself, his pills and potions;
Tucking with sympathizing tears,
The bed-clothes round his chin and ears,
Examining, too, all his motions;
For fear that Faddle's tender tripes,
Poor thing, might suffer by the gripes:
And quitting him at night, there's such caressing,
When, bishop-like, he leaves the dog his blessing.