The fourth he could not hold from drink, but sends His boy to one of his old trusty friends, Adjuring him, by all the powers divine, } To pity his distress, who could not dine } Without a flaggon of his healing wine. } He drinks a swilling draught; and, lined within, Will supple in the bath his outward skin: Whom should he find but his physician there, Who wisely bade him once again beware. Sir, you look wan, you hardly draw your breath; Drinking is dangerous, and the bath is death. 'Tis nothing, says the fool; but, says the friend, This nothing, sir, will bring you to your end. Do I not see your dropsy belly swell? Your yellow skin?--No more of that; I'm well. I have already buried two or three } That stood betwixt a fair estate and me, } And, doctor, I may live to bury thee. } Thou tell'st me, I look ill; and thou look'st worse. I've done, says the physician; take your course. The laughing sot, like all unthinking men, Bathes, and gets drunk; then bathes, and drinks again: His throat half throttled with corrupted phlegm, And breathing through his jaws a belching steam, Amidst his cups with fainting shivering seized, His limbs disjointed, and all o'er diseased, His hand refuses to sustain the bowl, } And his teeth chatter, and his eye-balls roll, } Till with his meat he vomits out his soul; } Then trumpets, torches, and a tedious crew Of hireling mourners, for his funeral due. Our dear departed brother lies in state, } His heels stretched out, and pointing to the gate;[217] } And slaves, now manumized, on their dead master wait. } They hoist him on the bier, and deal the dole, And there's an end of a luxurious fool. But what's thy fulsome parable to me? My body is from all diseases free; My temperate pulse does regularly beat; } Feel, and be satisfied, my hands and feet: } These are not cold, nor those opprest with heat. } Or lay thy hand upon my naked heart, And thou shalt find me hale in every part. I grant this true; but still the deadly wound Is in thy soul, 'tis there thou art not sound. Say, when thou see'st a heap of tempting gold, Or a more tempting harlot dost behold; Then, when she casts on thee a side-long glance, Then try thy heart, and tell me if it dance. Some coarse cold sallad is before thee set; } Bread with the bran, perhaps, and broken meat; } Fall on, and try thy appetite to eat. }