"Of late, without the least pretence to skill, Ward's grown a fam'd physician by a pill; Yet he can but a doubtful honour claim, While envious Death oft blasts his rising fame. Next travell'd Taylor fills us with surprise, Who pours new light upon the blindest eyes; Each journal tells his circuit through the land, Each journal tells the blessings of his hand; And lest some hireling scribbler of the town Injure his history, he writes his own. We read the long accounts with wonder o'er; Had he wrote less, we had believed him more. Let these, O Mapp, thou wonder of the age! With dubious arts endeavor to engage; While you, irregularly strict to rules, Teach dull collegiate pedants they are fools; By merit, the sure path to fame pursue-- For all who see thy art must own it true." Mrs. Mapp continued to reside in Epsom, but she visited London once a week. Her journeys to and from the metropolis she performed in a chariot drawn by four horses, with servants wearing splendid liveries. She used to put up at the Grecian Coffee-House, where Sir Hans Sloane witnessed her operations, and was so favourably impressed by them, that he put under her charge his niece, who was suffering from a spinal affection, or, to use the exact and scientific language of the newspapers, "whose back had been broke nine years, and stuck out two inches." The eminent lady went to the playhouse in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields to see the _Husband's Relief_ acted. Her presence not only produced a crowded house, but the fact that she sate between Taylor the quack oculist on one side, and Ward the drysalter on the other, gave occasion for the production of the following epigram, the point of which is perhaps almost as remarkable as its polish:-- "While Mapp to the actors showed a kind regard, On one side _Taylor_ sat, on the other _Ward_; When their mock persons of the drama came, Both _Ward_ and _Taylor_ thought it hurt their fame; Wonder'd how Mapp could in good humour be, '_Zoons!_' crys the manly dame, 'it hurts not me; Quacks without art may either blind or kill, But demonstration proves that mine is skill.'" On the stage, also, a song was sung in honour of Mrs. Mapp, and in derision of Taylor and Ward. It ran thus:-- "You surgeons of London, who puzzle your pates, To ride in your coaches, and purchase estates, Give over for shame, for pride has a fall, And the doctress of Epsom has out-done you all. Derry down, &c. "What signifies learning, or going to school, When a woman can do, without reason or rule, What puts you to nonplus, and baffles your art; For petticoat practice has now got the start. Derry down, &c.