University of Virginia Library


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VACCINATION,

A DRAMATIC POEM.


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SCENE, A HEATH.
Enter Hecate and Imps.
HECATE.
Hear ye? my imps! My devils' whelps! hear ye?
Bring me from bog and fen the pois'nous vapour.
Pluck me from head of murd'rous Volcano

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Its noisome cap! Hear ye? Before mine eye
Do twinkle! cub! catch me a thunder cloud,
Down with't! another! now a third, to make
The charmed number.
[The imps presently encircle Hecate with fogs and clouds, &c.
Thrifty whelps! I like
Your keen dispatch. Keep ye your watch abroad,
And give me note if benign spirit hold
This way its track.
[Imps vanish.
Now that I have shut out
The sun, who witching rite, may not behold,
Come! toiling sisters, come!

[The three Sisters appear.
1 Sister.
To do?

2 Sister.
To do?

3 Sister.
To do?

Hecate.
Enough.

1 Sist.
I would that thou hadst made thyself the drudge,
I've hands for mine own work.


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2 Sister.
I was about
A trick, whereof the hearing were a feast;
And left undone;

3 Sister.
And I—

Hecate.
Hew! Mistresses,
What more?

1 Sister.
Why did you summon us?

Hecate.
Attend!
Ye maws of mischief! evil-working hags!
Attend, and peace! There is a pestilence
Of human wail, most fruitful to your spleen,
The queen of mortal plague, Variola,
By man yclep'd.

1 Sister.
I know't.

2 Sister.
I know't.

3 Sister.
I know't.

1 Sister.
A mother in her breast
Nestled a whelp, a thriving cub it was,
And fair to look on, and with many a start
Of baby tricksomeness and crowing mirth,

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Did seem to mock the silly doting dam,
That with her eyes did banquet on't. “Sweet chick,”
Quoth she. “Sweet chick,” quoth I, and shook my coif;
Whereat its blood 'gan boil, and what was late
Its velvet case, a lep'rous hide appear'd:
And its fair rounded body, a swol'n mass,
Unsightly—rank, that e'en the mother loath'd
To touch. 'Twas spar'd: but how? the twinkling eye,
For which the dam had given her own, was gone,
And left its little house, ungarnish'd, rack'd,
And drear! One limb was shrunk, and of its use
Bereft another. Seam'd and patch'd the whole,
As of a thousand disagreeing parts,
With a bad grace constrained to accord,
'Twas made; and thus I marr'd!

2 Witch.
The other day—
A wicked day it was!—as I bestrode
My croaking raven, at a miser's casement,
To cry the death-warning, a fowler shot
My nag. The wight I found had a fair mate,

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And young ones nine, to warm his nest for him,
And chirp to him; thereat I doff'd my hose,
Which from a granny's stump, the night before,
I stole; she nursed one in that pest, and threw't
Among them: of the brood surviv'd not one!
What say you sisters? this is but one feat
Of thousands I have done with that rare pest.


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3 Sist.
'Tis thrice three weeks, since, being in the dumps,
I saw the village-rabble on the green,
Making their sports; from grandam to sleek maid,
Grey-beard and boy, whereat my choler grew;
And next day in shape of beggar-quean,
I spread the pest: when next assembled they?
Under the church-yard, I ween, it was—
A dumb and woeful company.

1 Sister.
No more!


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2 Sister.
No more!

3 Sister.
Why mar you me?

1 Sister.
See you not Hecate's eye?
It moves her wrath.

Hecate.
Ha' done! enough, I hear.
O! sisters three, a mortal is your foil!
I say a mortal man the charm hath found,
Which can preserve against this precious pest.

1 Sister.
Hew!

2 Sister.
Hew!

3 Sister.
Hew!

1 Sister.
Here is a rack!

2 & 3 Sister.
Let us bewitch him, dam!

Hecate.
He is of heav'n protected.

3 Sister.
Can we nought
Effect?

Hecate.
Attend! If 't be ye cannot blast
The minion, still may ye not mar your worst?
Hear ye?


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1 Sister.
The way?

2 Sister.
The way?

3 Sister.
The way?

Hecate.
Find out for me some few
Ye can inspirit with your own rank zeal.
To thwart.

1 Sister.
We will.

2 Sister.
We will.

3 Sister.
We will!

Hecate.
But heed ye, they be fit;
Who will not stick at fraud. Shameless and bold
As mischief, lyars to the last—a crew
For any thing.

1 Sister.
I have one at your call:
Sweet mistress, shall I beckon you his fetch,
That you may note him proper.

Hecate.
Do it, Hag.

1 Sister.
Throw in nine bristles of a hog, and tip
Of his uncleanly snout; brain of baboon,
Cruel hyena's heart, liver of lynx,

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And lip of lady wench, by naughty rot
That died. The charm's complete: how like you, Queen,
My bird?

[Enter the fetch of Doctor Porcus.
Hecate.
It seems the very chick of thee.

1 Sister.
I suckl'd it! 'twas on an evil day,
I heard the cry of one in travail. Sore
The birth-pang seemed, and I did list, and list

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Mine heart full, till my viol ceas'd; thereon,
Like groaning gossip, in I hi'd me, where
In granny's lap the whining whelp did lie;
Which when I saw, I call'd it cub of mine:
So lik'd it me the look and lineaments
To mark; for at that time, by devils' imp,
I had a sprite of which this seemed the twin,
The brother cub.

Hecate.
Well, sister?

1 Sister.
It deserv'd
My liking; for, as oft it would refuse,
With yelp and pinch, the nipple o' the nurse,
Unseen I'd give 't my dug, which it would milk
With most voracious maw; and as it grew,
I'd feed it with swine's marrow, blood of goat,
And witching owl's brains, to its palate fare,
Most dainty.


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Hecate.
I foretel, my thrifty hag,
The worthy captain this. Say on.

2 & 3 Sister.
Say on,
Sweet sister.

1. Sister.
To mature my darling work,
In cell of alchymist I did immure
The drudging elf! his office, to attend
The bubbling pot, and feed the furnace maw,
And pound the drug, when lack of meaner toil
Permitted. In his brain, meanwhile, I stirr'd
Conceited thought, and in his heart base pride,
Begetting thrift at trick device and act
Of bold pretence, and herein most content,

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Athwart the sea, to scorching region
Of reptile venemous, and beast that prowls
For blood, I did excite. There, from the moon,
In her wicked pow'r, vapour, impregnating
With wildest fantasy the thoughts of men,
I got; and, as on ground, at night, he stretch'd,
Torpid with stupor, from the satyr-feast,
Pour'd into 's brain, whose ready case did gape
To take the precious distilment in.

Hecate.
Sweet hag!


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2 & 3 Sister.
O Sister rare!

Hecate.
Queen of our art!
Say on!

2 Sister.
Say on!

3 Sister.
Say on!

1 Sister.
Suffice it mates,

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And mistress mine—my sketch of art, to keep
In human bound—this thing half mortal, half
A witch's spawn, I've strained, lest that of men
He should be held forbid; but now my charms
I will unbind, and set him loose, to work
Sweet mischief for us.

2 Sister.
Here's an adder's fang!
Sister, I pluck'd it from the swol'n hide
O'th' poison'd brat, and for nine moons have kept,
Of precious pow'r—I giv't thee for thy thrift.

1 Sister.
Thanks, pretty hag!

3 Sister.
Here is the venom pouch
Of murd'rous spider; out of twenty charms
I have, it is the best: thereto I'll add
The sting of gnat, to make more worthy gift.
Take, sister, take.

1 Sister.
I will! I will!

2 & 3 Sister.
And now
Sing we our chaunt.


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Hecate.
But first your shadowy imp
Dismiss.

1 Sister.
'Tis done! great Hecate.

Hecate.
Begin.

[Sisters take hands, and with many wild and hideous gestures commence.
All.
We'll do! we'll do!
What shall we do?

1 Sister.
By twilight.

2 Sister.
By moonlight.

3 Sister.
By star light.

All.
Or dark night.
We'll do! we'll do!
What mortal wight shall rue.

1 Sister.
One and two!

2 Sister.
One and two!

3 Sister.
One and two,
We'll do! we'll do!
What shall we do?

1 Sister.
At third hour.


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2 Sister.
At seventh hour.

3 Sister.
At ninth hour.

All.
At twelfth hour,
We'll do! we'll do!
What mortal wight shall rue.

Hecate.
Sisters, 'tis not in tune! more shrill and harsh,
Strike up the chaunt—yell it more musical.
Yet peace! to work! as to thyself, anon
I'll set his task—now, hags! what next?

2 Sister.
A mate!
I have a mate for him.

Hecate.
Summon him in!

2 Sister.
Here's gall of cormorant, muzzle of cow,
Of lyar's tongue the blister'd part, wi'th' root,
Cranium of horned owl, with a thin part
O'th' cerebrum, and tips thrice three of birch
From reeking dunce's back—Now mistress?

[Enter the fetch of Doctor Lignum.
Hecate.
Thanks!
It likes me well; yet seems it not above

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A common mortal, hag, and that most dull
And sightless.

2 Sister.
Such it is as it doth seem,
Yet hath it mischief in't; an imp of spleen
And malice: when 't was but 'tween brat and boy
It won my heart, maiming a father-long-legs,
As he did skip on window-pane; no treat
So rare had I before; nor since that day
Have known; with such a stomach of keen spite,
Grinning the while the little urchin play'd
The executioner.


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Hecate.
Oh promise fair!
And didst thou nurse this venom?

2 Sister.
By mine art
To prime of rankness brought, it will suffice.

3 Sister.
A third! a third!

Hecate.
Shew! Sister, shew!

3 Sister.
A charm
I have; but it must come from other hand
Nor mine, nor thine, nor thine. Bring me a sprite
O'th' other gender.

Hecate.
Here is such a one.


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3 Sister:
Here is the bone that nameless they do call,
Throw 't in;—another 'clep'd the cuckoo's beak
'Twill come for that. [Enter the Fetch of ------

What think you, mistress?

Hecate.
Humph!
'Twill do for want of other.

3 Sister.
'Tis a wight
I pitch'd upon for such a thing.

Hecate.
No more!
Away with it. Now each one to her task;
And set your stomachs to 't; nor day nor night
Give o'er. Break up the council.—So!—Begone!

[All vanish.
 

The Small-Pox is attended with a dreadful mortality in some families. It is not uncommon for a little circle of domestic affection and happiness to be compleatly annihilated by such a visitation. About two years ago, I had a melancholy opportunity of witnessing this. The Small-Pox made its appearance in St. Giles's, in London, a quarter inhabited by the lower orders of my countrymen. In my official capacity, (being then the resident Inoculator to the Jennerian society) I attended the poor people, every day, for the course of six or eight weeks. The scenes which I witnessed are not to be described. Domestic affection has made the heart of the Irishman its peculiar shrine. Nearly the half of those who caught the small-pox fell victims to it. Great was the wo of fathers and of mothers. There was scarcely a family in which death had not made more or less havoc. I remember well one poor widow woman who had three children: when I visited her, one of them lay dead, another was dying, the third, a fine girl of eleven years of age, was in the first stage of the confluent eruption. The mother had parted with the last article of apparel she could spare, to obtain such things as the gossips had recommended. For several days she had not tasted food. Not one of her darlings were spared to her! Language becomes dumb, when it would describe such misery as this. But what a contrast did the Cow-Pox produce? I saved about forty children by vaccinating them in time, and had the satisfaction to see them resist the Small-Pox, although there was not one that had not been exposed to contagion: nay the greater part had slept in the rooms, or in the beds with variolous patients.

To give the reader some insight into the mystery of the charms, by which the fetch of Doctor Porcus is conjured, I must inform him that the Doctor is a man whose manners betray neither the rust of the school, nor the polish of society. He is indeed Doctor Porcus; and both in himself, and in every thing that pertains to him, doth smack of the sty and the mire; he is industrious, but not political in devising mischief. The monkey's tricks are easily found out, so may we say of the tricks of Doctor Porcus. With an affectation of philanthropy, he has the conscience and remorse of a bravo, who carves his dinner with his stiletto. He is a devout votary of Bacchus, into whose most sacred mysteries he has been initiated; it is said, that he has uttered the inspirations of the God; and, in the last place, this son of Æsculapius is the convenient favourite of the Nymphæ nobiles Veneris.

The sister has not flattered the Doctor's physiognomy.

This species of fosterage in some measure accounts for the qualifications of Doctor Porcus, and prevents him from passing for a lusus naturæ.

The other occupation of Doctor Porcus was that of the most menial office. The humble origin of a man is his applause and boast, when he has attained to rank and condition, by worth and by merit. Impudence and servility alternately promoted Doctor Porcus.

Not only Doctor Porcus, but the whole junto of the anti-vaccinists may be supposed to have undergone this operation. Those who have not perused the works of these personages will scarcely credit that they should have uttered such monstrous things. A child, who had been vaccinated, happened some time after to be afflicted with scrophula. The anti-vaccinists immediately caught hold of this case, and very gravely asserted, that the child's face had been changed to that of an ox, by the influence of the new practice! In another instance, they declared that a patient went on all fours, and lowed like a bull, in consequence of having been vaccinated! In a third case, in which the patient was afflicted with an inveterate eruption of impetigo, which, in its advanced stage, exhibits a moist and clammy sore, they said that the child was covered with cow's hair, the wool of the blankets having adhered to the affected parts. In short, there was not an eruption of the most simple and common kind which they did not endeavour to transform into some hideous attendant of the Cow-Pox. Here, however, they had to combat an adversary before whom rashness and falsehood could never stand, for he was accomplished in wisdom and truth and virtue—of consummate skill, as a general practitioner, and minutely versed in the knowledge of cutaneous diseases. Before the deliberate and active investigation of Doctor Willan, these fantasies of the anti-vaccinists vanished wherever they were found, and thus the peace and tranquillity of innumerable families were preserved; and the new practice upheld, notwithstanding the outrageous violence of those who attempted to overthrow and crush it.

Hecate is well skilled in physiognomy; she reads Doctor Lignum on the instant. I recollect to have seen a motto of the witty and learned Ring's, which would apply admirably well to Doctor Lignum. It was this—Ex quoxis ligno non fit Mercurius. Mr. Ring had prefixed it to his answer to Mr. Birch, who, as well as Doctor Lignum, is no friend to vaccination. Our Doctor is indeed a most illiterate cub. He can scarcely spell or write. One must wonder that such a man should presume to take a part in a scientific disquisition; however, under the guidance of some of his more humanized brethren, the savage is partly concealed.

It would seem from the language of the Sister, that this gentleman is a woman-hater; such a being can have little of the grace of humanity about him: He is indeed the most detestable of the anti-vaccinists; and the less we say about him, the better. I have concluded this little poem in a manner by no means satisfactory to myself. In fact I might as well have left out the two last characters, having said so little about them; but the truth is, that having given one character at full length, it was impossible to say any thing new about the rest; for the whole fraternity have the most striking resemblance to each other.