24*

DEATH S DOINGS.

" Save me, kind friends, from Doctor Pill, 1 pray !

And try to find an honest one and skilful-Like Doctor Babington or Surgeon Wray,

Who none can charge with blunders weak or wilful;But let no Quack approach my humble bed,To feel my pulse, and shake his empty head!"

Rather would I " throw physic to the dogs ;"

For, oh! through Quacks, what ills from physic flow!

It saps our vitals—all our functions clogs—And makes our lives a scene of pain and woe :

Alas! what tortures patients undergo,

None but the suff'ring quack-duped patients know!

And if, by chance, you 'scape their murderous fangs,Gods ! what a fuss they make about your cure!

But if, worn out with agonizing pangs,You die —why, then, the malady was sure

To kill!—in truth, 'twas wonderful, they'll say,

That Death so long could have been kept away!

See yon poor wretch! mere effigy of man!

He'd faith! —and all their " grand specifics" tried;For while he trusted to the charlatan,

He little thought grim Death was by his side:And yet to him the Tyrant prov'd a friend,By bringing all his torments to an end.