THE REMEDY

WORSE THAN THE DISEASE.

I SENT for Ratcliffe, was so ill
That other doctors gave me over,
He felt my pulse, prescrib'd his pill,
And I was likely to recover.

But when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm'd the politician;
Cur'd yesterday of my disease,
I died last night of my physician.

EPITAPH.

Stet quicunque volet potens
Aulæ culmine lubrico, &c.

Seneca.

INTER'D beneath this marble stone,
Lie sauntering Jack and Idle Joan.
While rolling threescore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run,
If human things went ill or well,
If changing empires rose or fell,
The morning past, the evening came,
And found this couple still the same.

They walk'd, and ate, good folks; what then?
Why, then they walk'd and ate again.

They soundly slept the night away;
They did just nothing all the day:
And having buried children four,
Would not take pains to try for more.
Nor sister either had, nor brother;
They seem'd just tally'd for each other.
Their moral and economy

Most perfectly they made agree;
Each virtue kept its proper bound,
Nor trespass'd on the other's ground.
Nor fame nor censure they regarded;
They neither punish'd nor rewarded.
He car'd not what the footmen did;
Her maids she neither prais'd nor chid;
So every servant took his course,
And, bad at first, they all grew worse.
Slothful disorder fill'd his stable,
And sluttish plenty deck'd her table.
Their beer was strong; their wine was port;
Their meal was large; their grace was short.
They gave the poor the remnant meat,
Just when it grew not fit to eat.

They paid the church and parish rate,
And took, but read not, the receipt;
For which they claim'd their Sunday's due,
Of slumbering in an upper pew.

No man's defects sought they to know,

So never made themselves a foe:

No man's good deeds they did commend,
So never rais'd themselves a friend.
Nor cherish'd they relations poor;

That might decrease their present store :
Nor barn nor house did they repair;
That might oblige their future heir.

They neither added nor confounded;
They neither wanted nor abounded.
Each Christmas they accompts did clear,
And wound their bottom round the year.
Nor tear nor smile did they employ
At news of public grief or joy.

When bells were rung and bonfires made,
If ask'd, they ne'er denied their aid:
Their jug was to the ringers carried,
Whoever either died or married:
Their billet at the fire was found,
Whoever was depos'd or crown'd.

Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wise,
They would not learn, nor could advise :
Without love, hatred, joy, or fear,

They led-a kind of- as it were:

Nor wish'd, nor car'd, nor laugh'd, nor cried; And so they liv'd, and so they died.