A MAN, in many a country town, we know, Yet, some affirm, no enemies they are; Tho' the Apothecary fights with Death, I A member of this Esculapian line, Or mix a draught, or bleed, a blister; Of occupations these were quantum suff.: A few score mortals from the world, He made amends by bringing others into't. His fame full six miles round the country ran; All the old women called him "a fine man!" 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? Of poetry tho' Patron-God, Apollo patronises physick. Bolus lov'd verse; and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolv'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. R He had a patient lying at death's door, Some three miles from the town-it might be four; And, on the label of the stuff, He wrote this verse; Which, one would think, was clear enough "When taken, "To be well shaken.” Next morning, early, Bolus rose; Who a vile trick of stumbling had: For what's expected from a horse Bolus arriv'd; and gave a doubtful tap;- Knocks of this kind Are given by gentlemen who teach to dance: Out of their fingers. The servant lets him in, with dismal face, Portending some disaster; John's countenance as rueful look'd, and grim, "Well, how's the patient?" Bolus saidJohn shook his head. “Indeed!—hum! ha!—that's very odd! "He took the draught?"-John gave a nod. "Well,-how?--what then?-speak out, you "dunce!" "Why then" says John-" we shook him once." "Shook him!-how?"-Bolus stammer'd out:"We jolted him about." "Zounds! shake a patient, man!—a shake won't " do." "No, sir-and so we gave him two.” "Two shakes! od's curse! ""Twould make the patient worse. "It did so, sir!—and so a third we tried." "Well, and what then?"" then, sir, my master "' died." THREE BLACK CROWS. BYROM. TWO honest tradesmen, meeting in the Strand, shall hear; an odd affair indeed! Impossible-Nay, but 'tis really true; I have it from good hands, and so may you→ From whose, I pray-So having nam'd the man, Yes, Sir, I did; and if 'tis worth your care, But, by the bye, 'twas two black crows, not three. Resolv'd to trace so wondrous an event, Away goes he, and having found him out, Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one; Did you say nothing of a crow at all? |