He talked over much of the badness of times, And read us a list of the governor's[D] crimes, From which it was clearly predicted, and plain, That his honour would hardly be chosen again. He fought with Tim Tearcoat, and cudgelled with Ben, And wrestled with Sampson--all quarrelsome men;-- I was sorry to see him thus wasting his force On fellows who kicked with the heels of a horse. Tho' strong in my arms, and of strength to contest With the youths of my age in the wars of the fist, I thought it was better to let them pursue The quarrels they had, than to be one of their crew; I saw it was madness to join in the fray, So I left them to wrangle--each dog his own way. He spoke thrice an hour of his crop that had failed, And losses, he feared, that would get him enjailed; He mentioned his poultry, and mentioned his pigs, And railed at some Tories, converted to Whigs.-- (Excuse me retailing so much in my rhymes Of the chatt of the day and the stuff of the times; 'Tis thus in the acts of a play, we perceive All the parts are not cast to the wise, or the brave; Not all is discoursed by the famed or the fair, The demons of dullness have also their share; Statira in play-house has not all the chance, For hags are permitted to join in the dance: Not Catos, or Platos engross every play, For clowns and clod-hoppers must, too, have their day; Not the nobles of nature say all that is said, And monarchs are frequently left in the shade; There must be some nonsense, to step in between, There must be some fools to enliven the scene.) Here was Doctor Sangrado, with potion and pill, And his price was the same, to recover or kill. He waddled about, and was vext to the soul To see so much health in this horrible hole; He seemed in a fret there was nobody sick, And enquired of the landlord, "What ails your son Dick?" "What ails him? (said Gubbins) why nothing at all!" "By my soul (said the quack) he's as white as the wall; I must give him a potion to keep down his gall! There is bile on his stomach--I clearly see that; This night he will vomit as black as my hat: Here's a puke and a purge--twelve doses of bark; Let him swallow them all--just an hour before dark!" "O dear! (said the mother) the lad is quite well!"-- Said the Doctor, "No, no! he must take calomel: It will put him to rights, as I hope to be saved!" "Or rather (said Gubbins) you hope him engraved!" So, the Doctor walked off in a pitiful plight, And he lodged in a dog-house (they told me) that night. Here were wives, and young widows, and matrons, and maids, Who came for their health, or to stroll in the shades; Here were Nellies, and Nancies, and Hetties, by dozens, With their neighbours, and nephews, and nieces, and cousins-- All these had come hither to see the famed Fall, And you, pretty Sally, the best of them all. Here was Saunders, the jockey, who rode a white horse,