"A fhort Account of the Proceedings of the |
College of Phyficians, London, in relation to
"the fick Poor." The reader may there not
only be informed of the rife and progrefs of this
fo public an undertaking, but also of the concur-
rence and encouragement it met with from the
beft, as well as the most ancient members of the
fociety, notwithstanding the vigorous oppofition of
a few men, who thought it their intereft to defeat
fo laudable a defign.

The intention of this preface is not to perfuade mankind to enter into our quarrels, but to vindicate the author from being cenfured for taking any indecent liberty with a faculty he has the honour to be a member of. If the fatire may appear directed at any particular perfon, it is at fuch only 2s are prefumed to be engaged in difhonourable confederacies for mean and mercenary ends, against the dignity of their own profeffion. But if there be no fuch, then these characters are but imaginary, and by confequence ought to give nobody offence.

The defcription of the battle is grounded upon a feud that happened in the Dispensary, betwixt a member of the College with his retinue, and fome of the fervants that attended there to difpenfe the medicines; and is so far real, though the poe

tical relation be fictitious. I hope nobody will think the author too undecently reflecting through the whole, who, being too liable to faults himself, ought to be less fevere upon the miscarriages of others. There is a character in this trivial performance, which the town, I find; applies to a particular perfon: it is a reflection which I should be forry fhould give offence; being no more than what may be faid of any physician remarkable for much practice. The killing of numbers of patients is fo trite a piece of raillery, that it ought not to make the leaft impreffion, either upon the reader, or the perfon it is applied to; being one that I think in my conscience a very able physician, as well as a gentleman of extraordinary learning. If I am hard upon any one, it is my reader: but fome worthy gentlemen, as remarkable for their humanity as their extraordinary parts, have taken care to make him amends for it, by prefixing fomething of their own.

I confefs, those ingenious gentlemen have done me a great honour; but while they design an imaginary panegyric upon me, they have made a real one upon themselves; and by faying how much this small performance exceeds fome others, they convince the world how far it falls fhort of theirs. Fiij

THE COPY OF AN INSTRUMENT,

SUBSCRIBED BY

THE PRESIDENT, CENSOR, MOST OF THE ELECTS, SENIOR FELLOWS CANDIDATES, &c. OF THE COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS,

IN RELATION TO THÈ SICK POOR.

RECOMMENDATORY POEMS.

TO DR. GARTH,
UPON THE

DISPENSARY.

On that fome genius whose poetic vein
Like Montague's could a juft piece fuftain,
Would fearch the Grecian and the Latin ftore,
And thence prefent thee with the pureft ore:
In lafting numbers praise thy whole defign,
And manly beauty of each nervous line:
Shew how your pointed fatire's sterling wit,
Does only knaves or formal blockheads hit;
Who're gravely dull, infipidly ferene,
And carry all their wildom in their mien;
Whom thus expos'd, thus ftripp'd of their difgtife,
None will again admire, most will despise!
Shew in what noble verfe Naffau you fing,
How fuch a poet's worthy such a king!
When Somers' charming eloquence you praise,
How loftily your tuneful voice you raise!
But my poor feeble mufe is as unfit
To praife, as imitate what you have writ.
Artists alone should venture to commend
What Dennis can't condemn, nor Dryden mend:
What muft, writ with that fire and with that ease,
The beaux, the ladies, and the critics, please.

ΤΟ

C. BOYLE.

MY FRIEND THE AUTHOR,

DESIRING MY OPINION OF HIS POEM.

Ask me not, friend, what I approve or blame;
Perhaps I know not why I like, or damn;
1 can be pleas'd; and I dare own I am.

I read thee over with a lover's eye;
Thou haft no faults, or I no faults can spy;
Thou art all beauty, or all blindness I.
Critics and aged beaux of fancy chafte,
Who ne'er had fire, or elfe whofe fire is past,

Mufl judge by rules what they want force to
tile.

I would a poet, like a mistress, try,
Not by her hair, her hand, her nose, her eye;
But by fome nanelefs power, to give me joy.
The nymph has Grafton's, Cecil's, Churchill's
charms,

If with refiftlefs fires my foul fhe warms,
With balm upon her lips,and raptures in her arms
Such is thy genius, and fuch art is thine,
Some fecret magic works in every line;
We judge not, but we feel the power divine.
Where all is juft, is beauteous, and is fair,
Diftinctions vanish of peculiar air.
Loft in our pleasure, we enjoy in you
Lucretius, Horace, Sheffield, Montague.
And yet 'tis thought, fome critics in this town,
By rules to all, but to themfelves, unknown,
Will damn thy verfe, and justify their own.
Why let them damn: were it not wondrous hard
Facetious Mirmil* and the city bard,

So near ally'd in learning, wit, and skill,
Should not have leave to judge, as well as kill?
Nay, let them write; let them their forces join,
And hope the motley piece may rival thine.
Safely defpife their malice, and their toil,
Which vulgar ears alone will reach, and will
defile.

Be it thy generous pride to please the best,
Whofe judgment, and whose friendship, is a teft.
With learned Hans thy healing cares be join'd;
Search thoughtful Ratcliffe to his inmoft mind;
Unite, reftore your arts, and fave mankind:
Whilst all the bufy Mirmils of the town
Envy our health, and pine away their own.
Whene'er thou would't a tempting mufe engage,
Judicious Walsh can beft direct her rage.
To Sommers and to Dorfet too fubmit,
And let their stamp immortalize thy wit.
Confenting Phoebus bows, if they approve,
And ranks thee with the foremost bards above.
Whilst these of right the deathlefs laurel fend,
Be it my humble business to commend
The faithful, honeft man, and the well-natur'd
friend.

Dr. Gibbons.

CHR. COPRINGTON.

THE DISPENSARY.

CANTO I.