Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister;
Or draw a tooth out of your head;
Or chatter scandal by your bed;
Or give a glister.

Of occupation these were quantum suff.,
Yet still he thought the list not long enough,
And therefore midwifery he chose to pin to't:
This balanced things-for if he hurl'd

A few score mortals from the world,

He made amends by bringing others into❜t.
His fame full six miles round the country ran ;
In short, in reputation he was solus;

All the old women call'd him "a fine man!"
His name was Bolus.

Benjamin Bolus, though in trade

(Which often genius fetters),

Read works of fancy, it is said,

And cultivated the Belles Lettres.

And why should this be thought so odd?
Can't men have taste, yet cure a phthisic?
Of poetry though patron god,

Apollo patronizes physic.

Bolus loved verse, and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he would often 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 simple honest dealing-not a crime;
When patients swallow physic without reason,
It is but fair to give a little rhyme.

He had a patient lying at death's door,
Some three miles from the town (it might be four),
To whom one evening Bolus sent an article
In pharmacy, that's call'd cathartical,

And on the label of the stuff

He wrote a verse,

Which one would think was clear enough,
And terse:

"WHEN TAKEN,

"TO BE WELL SHAKEN."

Next morning early Bolus rose,
And to the patient's house he goes

Upon his pad,
Which a vile trick of stumbling had ;
It was indeed a very sorry hack;
But that's of course,

For what's expected from a horse
With an apothecary on his back?
Bolus arrived, and gave a loudish tap,
Between a single and a double rap.
Knocks of this kind

Are given by gentlemen who teach to dance,
By fiddlers, and by opera singers:

One loud, and then a little one behind,

As if the knocker fell by chance
Out of their fingers.

The servant lets him in with dismal face,
Long as a courtier's out of place-

Portending some disaster;
John's countenance as rueful look'd and grim,
As if the apothecary had physick'd him,
And not his master.

"Well, how's the patient ?" Bolus said.
John only 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 stammered 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 !--odds curse!

" "Twould make the patient worse." "It did so, sir ;-and so a third we tried." "Well, what then ?"" Then, sir, my master died."

DISPUTE BETWEEN EYES AND NOSE.
Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose ;
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong:
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause
With a great deal of wit, and a wig full of learning;
While Chief Baron Ear sat to balance the laws,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear,

"And your lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find,

"That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, "Which amounts to possession time out of mind."

Then holding the spectacles up to the court

"Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle

"As wide as the ridge of the Nose is,-in short, "Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

"Again, would your lordship a moment suppose,
"("Tis a case that has happen'd, and may be again.)
"That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
"Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then?
"On the whole it appears, what my argument shows,
"With a reasoning the court will never condemn,
"That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
"And the Nose was as plainly intended for them."

Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how),
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes:
But what were his arguments, few people know,
For the court did not think they were equally wise.

So his lordship agreed, with a grave solemn tone,
Decisive and clear, without one if or but,
That whenever the Nose put the spectacies on,
By daylight or candlelight, Eyes should be shut.

PAT AND THE MAGISTRATE.

A Patlander, with a pole as red as the Red Lion at Brentford, and rendered still more red by a copious discharge of blood which oozed through a dirty rag tied over a recent wound on his scalp, applied to a magistrate for a warrant, when the following dialogue took place :

Mag. Well, Pat-(for his countenance operated as a sort of finger-post, pointing to the road whence he came)-what do you want?

Pat. I'd be wanting a warrant, your worship's glory. Mag. Against whom?

Pat. Agin Barney O'Leary, plaize your Rivirince. Mag. For what?

Pat. For murther, your grace.

Mag. Whom did he murther?

Pat. Murther! Och, the devil a crature but mysilf, your excellency.

Mag. Indeed! Has he really been guilty of that? Pat. By my sowl he has ! Bad luck to him! He has made a hole in my napper big enough to bury a cat in.

Mag. He has not killed you outright, I see.

Pat. Och sure, it isn't his fault that he hasn't, for he intended it, and nothing surer.

Mag. I suppose an assault warrant will suit you? When did he assault you?

Pat. He 'saughted me last night, about two o'clock this morning, your serene highness?

Mag. Did he strike you with a stick?

Pat. No, my lord, it was a small taste of a poker.
Mag. A poker! What a dreadful murderous wea-

pon.

Pat. Arrah! sure your holiness, it is indeed, indeed.
Mag. Where were you when this happened?
Pat. Where was I? sure I was in bed.

Mag. Asleep or awake?

Pat. As sound as a roach, your majesty.

Mag. And what provocation had you given him?

Pat. Divil a provocation at all, most noble. How could I when I, was dead drunk asleep?

Mag. What! do you mean to say, he came to your bedside and struck you in this dreadful manner without cause?

Pat. Yes, your mightiness-barring he came to his own bedside instead of mine.

Mag. His own bedside! were you in his bed?
Pat. Faith, you have guessed it, your rivirince.
Mag. And what brought you there?

Pat. That's more than I can tell, your honour, barring it was the liquor.

Mag. Was this all you did to provoke his anger? Pat. Divil a thing else.

Mag. Was there any other person present?

Pat. Not a crature-independent of his wife, that was in bed with me, your grace.

Mag. His wife ! were you in bed with his wife?
Pat. In course I was, your worship!

Mag. And don't you think you deserved what you got?

Pat. Is it me? Not I, indeed-it was all a mistake. Mag. Mistake!

Pat. Yes, I thought it was my own wife in the dark; I went into the room in a mistake!

Mag. Well, I hope you committed no other mistake. You must be careful in future. I cannot grant you a warrant.

Pat. Thank your majesty. If he hits me agin, shall go for something. By my sowl I will give him a crack that will knock him into the middle of next week. So an illigant good day to your mightiness.

Pulling up his unmentionables, he hopp'd off in a real Irish trot.

It turned out that Paddy went into the bed unconscious of where he was, till Barney gave him a gentle hint with the poker, and fortunately his skull was thick enough to resist the intended finisher. Barney's sleeping beauty was also awoke by the shock, who gave her tender assistance in larruping the intruder out of the chamber of her lord and master.