Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/539
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THE DOSE.
521
That time elapsed, nurse made all speed,
The patient with the pills to feed;
She opened the box and gave him two,
He gulped them down without ado;
Two more, and then two more must follow,
These rather stuck within his swallow.
"Good nurse, some drink."—He drank, and then
Boldly attacked the pills again.
Two more went down, and then two more,
Which made the number half a score.
"More drink—so many is provoking—
My throat is full—I'm almost choking."
"Arrah, my jewel, let me tell
You, these will shortly make you well,
Whether you will or not—be easy
And make a dozen up, an't please ye."
The patient with the pills to feed;
She opened the box and gave him two,
He gulped them down without ado;
Two more, and then two more must follow,
These rather stuck within his swallow.
"Good nurse, some drink."—He drank, and then
Boldly attacked the pills again.
Two more went down, and then two more,
Which made the number half a score.
"More drink—so many is provoking—
My throat is full—I'm almost choking."
"Arrah, my jewel, let me tell
You, these will shortly make you well,
Whether you will or not—be easy
And make a dozen up, an't please ye."
Two more he took.—"I prithee say,
Good nurse, how many there remains?"
"Two, four, five, seven, nine, ten, twelve—aye,
By Shelah, good St. Patrick's cousin,
The box contains
Exact another dozen!"
"A dozen more!" the sick man cries
(Trembling with fever and surprise),
"I thought apothecaries vended
By retail, till the patient mended;
But this! by Esculapius good,
By all that ever medicine understood,
This sells the poison wholesale!"
Good nurse, how many there remains?"
"Two, four, five, seven, nine, ten, twelve—aye,
By Shelah, good St. Patrick's cousin,
The box contains
Exact another dozen!"
"A dozen more!" the sick man cries
(Trembling with fever and surprise),
"I thought apothecaries vended
By retail, till the patient mended;
But this! by Esculapius good,
By all that ever medicine understood,
This sells the poison wholesale!"
This boisterous gale
Of angry passion o'er,
She coaxed him to get down two more,
And thus at length he swallowed twenty-four!
Worn with fatigue some time he lay,
To pain and angry thoughts a prey;
But soon his agony increased,
For lo! the pills lay undigested:
Hard at his stomach, there they rested,
And filled with dreadful pains his breast.
Of angry passion o'er,
She coaxed him to get down two more,
And thus at length he swallowed twenty-four!
Worn with fatigue some time he lay,
To pain and angry thoughts a prey;
But soon his agony increased,
For lo! the pills lay undigested:
Hard at his stomach, there they rested,
And filled with dreadful pains his breast.
The doctor must be called—he came,
Inquired each symptom,—shrugged his shoulders,
He, apprehensive for his fame,
And for the patient one or two beholders—
"Did you administer the draught?""Oh, yes."
"The pills?""'Tis they have caused all this,"
Inquired each symptom,—shrugged his shoulders,
He, apprehensive for his fame,
And for the patient one or two beholders—
"Did you administer the draught?""Oh, yes."
"The pills?""'Tis they have caused all this,"