N elderly lady, whofe bulky, fquat figure,
A white was much bigger,
One fun-fhiny-day to the FLEET did repair,
To fhew her fine drefs, 'mong the beaux of the bare,
Her mein and behaviour, fo awkward and queer,
Caus'd much admiration, but 'twas with a fneer.
At length the fly gibers burft into loud laughter;
Away waddled madam and they hurry'd after.
To recover her fan dropt in anger and haste,
She ftoop'd down, and let fly a loud peftilent blast.
All stopp'd fhort in furprise, not expecting behind
Such a poisonous fhaft of the parthian kind.
EWELL open the door, cries out one of the crowd:
Shut it clofe; lock it faft; cries another more loud.
Says a third, ftop the key hole, when away you have fent her,
Left in fumes like the prefent, her spright fhall re-enter.
Tho' the scent still remains, yet the game you can't follow:
She came in with a hoop, and went out with a hollow.
Grubftreet Journal, N° 88.
--L----Y the roftrum mounts, difplays his handSettles his fcarf----and well adjusts his bandWith front elate furveys the pious dames-----------Then challenges them all,---- t' oppose his themes-----But filent all; our orator, more bold,
Paft doubt, proves old are young, and young are old.
What all defire, how learned he defends?
How bravely boafts a conteft, none contends!
So DIMMOCK, champion fam'd, in haughty, mood
With ardent eyes furveys the gaping crow'd:
With vifage ftern his gauntlet down he throws;
And boafts a vict'ry, where he meets no foes.
Grubftreet Journal, N° 89.
Doctor J. M----E to Doctor J. H----Y; Jendeth greeting;
OCTOR, 'tis ftrange, that you pretend to cure
A fad disease, which you are forc'd t'endure.
Were I not free from worms that plague the belly,
I'd ne'er pretend for those a cure to tell ye.
With all my fkill, I ne'er was yet fo vain,
To adverti e 'gainft worms that haunt the brain:
Those worms, which, crawling round your dura mater,
A poet form'd, HYP DOCTOR, and ORATOR.
In all these three refpects, that proverb true,
Phyficians heal thyfelf's apply'd to you.
Thy lectures, poftills, effays, fyllogifms,
Flow all from hypochondriac paroxisms,
Strange it may feem, that one fo pert and gay
Should groan beneath dull hypo's difmal fway.
But I in daily advertisements show,
That hypochondriac ills from fcurvy flow:
And all the town, which thou haft play'd thy farce on,
Declare thou'ft been a very fcurvy P----N.
When, in the DAILY POST, fo near each other
We ftood, that thou waft look'd on as my brother;
Why didft thou think an honour a disgrace;
And proudly envy my fuperior place?
Why would thy vain ambition higher foar,
'Twas fame enough to ftand next DOCTOR M----E.
In that difpute, had not my better pay,
As in most other cafes, won the day :
My age, fkill, learning, and fuccefs might claim
The due precedence for my greater name.
E'er yet the name of ORATOR was known;
Mine long had fill'd the country and the town.
L
Not like white powder mine, which makes no noife,
And like a filent hypocrite destroys;
But like the black, fulphureous grain, my powder
Kills more, and raises a report much louder :
More worms it kills, I mean: whilft all around
BRITANNIA'S diftant towns my fame refound.
Of wondrous cures ftill proofs I bring to view:
Of thine thou ne'er one fingle proof couldst shew.
A certain perfon, with, or without name,
Adds daily augmentation to my fame.
In niceft elegance of words array'd,
Are fymptoms, remedies, and cures difplay'd.
Not like the dull, low, incoherent story
In quibbles advertis'd from ORATORY.
I leave the world to make a just affizement
Of either's parts by either's advertisement.
If thus hard pufh'd you vainly now should boast,
To gain in poetry what in profe you've loft;
You'll ftill be bit: for I've invok'd APOLLO:
He comes and lo! a train of rhymes here follow.
With all his spirit he infpires my layes;
And fmiling crowns my head with double bayes."
He
gave the certain art to cure, or kill;
And whilft I write thefe lines, he guides my quill.
And all the town will own, I'll lay a tefter,
That this epiftle's better than queen ESTHER.
See! how my fenfe in eafy numbers flows;
My language rifing, as my fancy glows:
How bright this burns! how pure is that, refin'd!
Leaving the caput mortuum all behind.
Not fo thy fenfe: like fnail, to rhyme a slave,
It creeps flow, flimy o'er brother's grave
FORD is not dead, but fleepeth; fpare his fame, I charge ye One ounce of mother-wit is worth a pound of clergy.
Did not the joke at laft the clergy hit,
In both these lines there's not one dram of wit.
Juft fo the jointed worm, that from my powder flies,
Crawls from its mother-filth, comes forth, and stinks and dies
All this proceeds from hypocondriac dream,..
The caufe of chillness in the parts extream,
Of which the head is one. When fcurvy feizes
The brain, it brings the HYPO as it pleases.
'Twas that brought this on thee: the fymptoms mind, Tis half the cure, the true disease to find.
The fcurvy's fymptoms I will make as plain,
As that whate'er thou doft, thou doft for gain.
The lympha fcurvy ftill perverts, and fo
Proves to the nervous fyftem mortal foe.
O'er the whole body hence extends its reign,
Sinks to the feet, and rifes to the brain.
Perfons fcorbutic, when the moon's at full,
Feel fenfe of weight, and pain obfcure and dull.
Too rav'nous, or too languid's th' appetite;
Both heavy ills, whene'er the pocket's light,
When once an ORATOR fcorbutic opes
His month, in fine rhetoric flowr's and tropes;
His gums fo liable to ulcerous tumor,
Void eithor faltish blood, or ferous humor.
You fee his teeth loose, liv'd, and corroded:
Whilft from his mouth loud noise, with ftench exploded,
Strikes ears and nofe: ftop both, and you'll do well,
Secure from poifonous founds, and pois'nous fmell."
E'en when he fpits, take care; for tho' he's tacit,
His fpittle's very falt, and fometimes acid.
Thus the disease in ev'ry part is fhown:
Now let my medicines pow'r and force be known.
The numerous trains of fymptoms it expells,
Scorbutic, hypochondriac illness quells:
-Alters and changes all the body's juices;
The lentor thins; and opens all the fluices:
It renovates the blood in ev'ry parts
Nature decay'd reftores, and chears the heart;
Revives the spirits of conceited noddies,
Gives reft to weary, tir'd, and worn out bodies;
The natural, innate heat, extinguish'd roufes,
Reftores the husbands empire over spouses;
Invigorates the whole corporeal frame,
Rekindling in the heart the vital flame.
But ha! mine burns too high, poetic rapture
Makes me forget, like you, both verse and chapter:
My text: my medicines :----- they are pills, a potion.
No, 'tis a fpirit, of which you've no notion;
A purge at proper times, and once a clyfter:
I'll fend th' ingredients wrapp'd in a register.
LAWRENCE POUTNEY-LANE,
SEPT. 15, 1731.
IGH-church exert thy rage, I'm not dismay'd,
Content I am with fcourges to be flay'd.
To ftarve in dungeon for the truths I've spoken,
Wander in fheeps skins, or on racks be broken.
With eyes turn'd up thus, low-church vicar cry'd
To whom a high-church curate quick reply'd:
Does this proceed from zeal, or oftentation?
Art thou not fure to get a difpenfation ?
Grubftreet Journal, No 90.
am a gentleman of an ancient family at TILLAGE-HALL in the county of S---P: but by the fondness of my father and mother, who kept me from school, for fear of spoiling my eyes, I was bred to the knowledge of little befides hounds and horns. When I grew up, I found the want of education: and fo, to gain what improvement I could at fuch an age, I took up my refidence at the chief town of the county, very famous for politeness. I had not been long there, but by help of a modifh taylor, and fome other auxiliaries, together with the genteel documents of a dancingmafter, I came to shake of my rufticity, and began to make a tolerable figure. But alas! there was a rural fort of modefty, which stuck exceeding close, and gave me exceffive trouble, whenever I came in company with the ladies. I
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