'Tis plain, my intereft you 've advanc'd fo long,
Each fee, though I was mute, would find a tongue.
And, in return, though I have ftrove to rend
Thofe ftatutes, which on oath I fhould defend;
Such arts are trifles to a generous mind:
Great fervices, as great returns fhould find.
And you
Can brandifh arms as well as urinals.
'll perceive, this hand, when glory calls,
Oxford and all her paffing-bells can tell,
By this right-arm what mighty numbers fell.
Whilft others meanly afk'd whole months to flay,
I oft' difpatch'd the patient in a day:
With pen in hand I push'd to that degree,
I fcarce had left a wretch to give a fee.
Some fell by laudanum, and fome by steel,
And death in ambush lay in every pill.
For, fave or flay, this privilege we claim,
Though credit fuffers, the reward 's the fame.
What though the art of healing we pretend,
He that defigns it leaft, is moft a friend.
Into the right we err, and muft confess
To overfights we often owe fuccefs.
Thus Beffus got the battle in the play;
His glorious cowardice reftor'd the day.
So the fam'd Grecian piece ow'd its defert
To chance, and not the labour'd ftrokes of art.
Phyficians, if they 're wife, fhould never think
any arms but fuch as pen and ink:
But th' enemy, at their expence, fhall find
When honour calls, I'll scorn to stay behind.
He faid; and feal'd th' engagement with a kiss,
Which was return'd by younger Afcaris *
Who thus advanc'd: Each word, Sir, you impart,
Has fomething killing in it, like your art.
How much we to your boundless friendship owe,
Our files can speak, and your prescriptions show.
Your ink defcends in fuch exceffive fhowers,
Tis plain, you can regard no health but ours.
Whilft poor pretenders puzzle o'er a cafe,
You but appear, and give the coup de grace.
O that near Xanthus' banks you had but dwelt,
When Ilium firft Achaian fury felt!
The horned river then had curs'd in vain
Young Peleus' arm, that chok'd his ftream with flain; 90
No trophies you had left for Grecks to raise;
Their ten years toil, you'd finish'd in ten days.
Fate fmiles on your attempts; and, when you lift,
In vain the cowards fly, or brave refift.
Then let us arm, we need not fear fuccefs;
No labours are too hard for Hercules.
Our military enfigns we 'll difplay;
Conqueft pursues, where courage leads the way.
To this defign fhrill Querpo † did agree,
A zealous member of the faculty;
His fire's pretended pious fteps he treads,
And where the Doctor fails, the Saint fucceeds.
A conventicle flefh'd his greener years,
And his full age the righteous rancour fhares.
Thus boys hatch game-eggs under birds of prey,
To make the fowl more furicus for the fray.
Slow Carus next difcover'd his intent,
With painful paufes muttering what he meant.
His fparks of life, in fpite of drugs, retreat,
So cold, that only calentures can heat.
In his chill veins the fluggish puddle flows,
And loads with lazy fogs his fable brows.
Legions of lunaticks about him prefs;
His province is, loft reafon to redress.
So when perfumes their fragrant fcent give o'er,
Nought can their odour, like a jakes, restore.
When for advice the vulgar throng, he's found
With lumber of vile books befieg'd around.
The gazing throng acknowledge their furprize,
And, deaf to reafon, ftill confult their eyes.
Well he perceives, the world will often find,
To catch the eye is to convince the mind.
Thus a weak ftate by wife diftruft inclines
To numerous ftores, and ftrength in magazines.
So fools are always inoft profufe of words,
And cowards never fail of longest swords.
Abandon'd authors here a refuge meet,
And from the world to duft and worms retreat.
Here dregs and fediment of auctions reign,
Refufe of fairs, and gleanings of Duck-lane.
And up thefe walls much Gothic lumber climbs,
With Swifs philosophy, and Runic rhymes.
Hither, retriev'd from cooks and grocers, come
Mede's works entire, and endless reams of Blome.
Where would the long-neglected Collins fly,
If bounteous Carus fhould refufe to buy?
But each vile fcribbler 's happy on this score:
He'll find fome Carus ftill to read him o'er.
Nor must we the obfequious Umbra fpare,
Who foft by nature, yet declar'd for war.
But when fome rival power invades a right,
Flies fet on flies, and turtles turtles fight.
Elfe courteous Umbra to the laft had been
Demurely meek, infipidly ferene.
With him, the prefent fill fome virtues have;
The vain are fprightly; and the ftupid, grave;
The flothful, negligent; the foppish, neat;
The lewd are airy; and the fly, discreet;
A Wren, an Eagle; a Baboon, a Beau ;
Colt, a Lycurgus; and a Phocion,
Heroic ardour now th' affembly warms,
Each combatant breathes nothing but alarms.
For future glory while the fcheme is laid,
Fam'd Horofcope thus offers to diffuade :
Since of each enterprize th' event's unknown,
We'll quit the fword, and hearken to the gown.
Nigh lives Vagellius, one reputed long
For ftrength of lungs, and pliancy of tongue.
* Dr. Gould.
Mr. Anthony Rowe.
§ Sir Barth. Shower.
For fees, to any form he moulds a caufe,
The worst has merits, and the best has flaws.
Five guineas make a criminal to-day;
And ten to-morrow wipe the ftain away.
Whatever he affirms is undeny'd,
Milo's the Lecher, Clodius th' Homicide;
Cato pernicious, Catiline a faint,
Orford fufpected, Duncomb innocent.
To law then, friends, for 'tis by Fate decreed,
Vagellius, and our money, fhall fucceed.
Know, when I first invok'd Difeafe by charms
To prove propitious to our future arms,
Ill omens did the facrifice attend,
Nor would the Sibyl from her grot ascend.
As Horofcope urg'd farther to be heard,
He thus was interrupted by a
* Bard:
In vain your magic myfteries you use,
Such founds the Sibyl's facred ears abuse.
These lines the pale divinity shall raise,
Such is the power of found, and force of lays.
"Arms meet with arms, fauchions with fauchions
"And fparks of fire ftruck out from armour flash. 189 "Thick clouds of duft contending warriors raise, "And hideous war o'er all the region brays.
"Some raging ran with huge Herculean clubs, "Some maffy balls of brafs, fome mighty tubs "Of cinders bore.
Sir Richard Blackmore. † King Arthur, p. 307. King Arthur, p. 327.
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