my lungs fhould be distemper'd: Ufed them with great Kebemence in my younger Days. Could not leave it off at laft. Think if it could proceed from fome other Reafon. Hope not. I don't remember: All from the violent Pulpit-Motions: Could not poffibly help it: The Power of the Spirit certainly ftraitned the Organs of the Body. Call my Servant in hafte: Send for Opium and Balfams: Flefb is Grafs. Certainly Grafs. Life is like many Things; a Shadow, a Bird, a Line in the Water, an old Story: Fumus, & umbra fumus, a good Motto for a Chimney, or a Black-Gown: Head fwims: Get out Fories I have nothing to fay to you. A Perverfe Ge Convocation. Dr. Spe. Let them do What they will. No good. Chaplains too. Honeft By a double Portion for him. Prefent Settlement. Kiling goes by Favour. Butter the Rooks Neft, said Sir, Thomas Wiat at the Reformation, and then you may do what you pleafe. All Joy to Great Cæfar, to little Cæfar. Another good Saying of Sir Thomas, It is a frange Thing a Man can't repent of his Sins, without the Leave of the Pope. Phaw, how came the Pope into my Head? Give me the Drops; I'll try to forget every Thing. Doze 'till Four. Opium an excellent Medicine. Many Debates in my Mind about a proper Doctor. Dr. Wd, he is my Countryman; don't care to truft him: Garth, he will laugh at me, and tell Stories: Why can't a Man do without them? Neceffary Evils. Refolve to ask Advice of Jonathan about it. Give my Mind to Contemplation: William the Conqueror : Rufus: The Third, Happy Day! Grand. Reftorative: Pleasant to think of thefe Things: Cough again twice, Diftempers will not be flattered: I wifh they would. No Body could do it better. Jonathan comes in: Looks with a fad Air. Don't like fuch Looks at all. Order the Family to come up Stairs at Seven: Refolved to preach before them extempore. Not much matter what the Text is: Eafy to run off from the Subject, and talk of the Times. Late Order about Preaching: It

can

cannot relate to Chamber-Practice. Bid my Man fet the Great Chair ready. Family comes up. Survey them with Delight: The Damfel Jane has a wicked Eye: Robin feems to meet her Glances: Unfan&tified Veffels! Children of Wrath! Luft of the Eye. Evil Concupifcence. No Flock without thefe Evil Ones. Look again at Jane: A Tear of Penitence in her Eye: Sweet Drops! Grace triumphs, Sin lies dead. With Tom were prefent: He might be reformed. Confider how many Sermons it is probable Tom hears in one Year: Afraid not one. Alas the Temple! alas the Temple! The Law eats up Divinity: It corrupts Manners, raifes Contentions among the Faithful, feeds upon poor Vicarages, and devours Widows Houfes without making long Prayers: Alas the Temple! Never liked that Place fince it harboured Sacheverall: He certainly spread an Infection there. A Swimming of my Head: Seem to hear the Noife of Tumults, Riots, Seditions: Frefh Noifes of High-Church, the Doctor; What would the Multitude have? Why are they incenfed? Who of our Order has offended? Im peach, Silence, Hang, Behead! That the Name of a Man fhould turn one's Head to a Giddinefs! Say a fhort mental Prayer: Cool by degrees. Jane petitions not to hear the Sermon, but make her Beds. There is no dealing with youthful Inclinations: They are unfteady in every Path: They leave the direct Way: Walk in byePlaces and Corners. Give her Leave to depart. Refolved within myself to deny Robin to go, if he fhould alk. Robin afks. Reprove him thus :----I have watched your mutual Temptations, and the Snares you laid for each other; You Robin, I fay, and the Damfel Jane: Forbear your Iniquity, ftruggle with Sin; make not Excufes to follow the Handmaid: Thou shalt stay here, and hear and edify. Prepare to preach: Hem thrice: Spread my Hands: Lift up my Eyes: Attempt to raife myfelf: Sink backwards: Faint fuddenly: Don't know what is done for half an Hour: Awakened to Life by cold Water, and many Cries: Rub my Eyes: Afk where

I have

I have been? Servants tell me ftrange Things. All prefs for a Doctor: Confent; fend for Garth. Think of a Chapter in praise of Phyficians: No Commentators guefs who was the Author. It must be Apocryphal : Never was but one Saint of the Faculty: Hei mihi!. Religio Medici: Where fhall one find more than the Title? Send for Mr. Boyle's Receipts: He was an excellent Man: I knew him. Read in the Book: For a Cough, Honey and Brimftone. Can't take it ;---Fling away the Book. Garth comes: Takes up Mr. Boyle's Receipts: Begins to fall into a Difcourfe with me to this Purpose, looking into the Title Page:

Doct. Sir, I am forry to fee you fo ill; but Egad I think you deserve it, if this Piece of Quackery has been your Regimen: An idle, trifling Collection of old Womens, Corn Cutters, and Farriers Recipes: Is this a Directory for a Man of your Parts, and Senfe.

. Patient. Why Doctor; Mr. Boyle was a great Man, and kept Company with the beft Phyficians of the Age, and was refpected by them.

.. Doct. So I keep Company with fome great Divines ; but the Devil is in it if any Man will therefore fay, that I am a Parfon.

So Diamonds take a Luftre from their Foil,

And to a Bentley 'tis we owe Charles Boyle.

Not Robert, Eged! It is true, he is a good Naturalist: The World are obliged to him ;---but for Phyfick, is as great a Dunce as the late Radcliffe.

Patient. But, Doctor, to the Purpofe: I will give up Boyle, and Radcliffe too, if you will but ease me.

Doct. I can no more promife that, than you can to fave me; I know you hate Infallibility in all Faculties: But I will try, for it is pity to loofe a good Horfe, tho' a Man has twenty Sets: Let us fee your Hand; By Jove I don't like it.

Patient.

Patient. Don't shake your Head fo, dear Doctor: Tell me plainly what Hopes you have of me; I don't love to be flatter'd, I never flatter'd any Body my self.

Doct. No!--That's ftrange indeed; flatter no Body, I wonder how you lived fo long then. Come, put out your Tongue, that must be viewed too.

Patient. Why, Doctor, you don't pretend to tell by ones Tongue whether one has flatter'd, or no: Come, to oblige you---fee it--

Doctor. A ftrange Tongue! an unflattering Tongue, truly For it tells a fad Truth, I am fure, at prefent. Patient. Pray what's that.

Doct. Only you have got a lurking Fever; and your Church Bellows are fo inflamed, that I dare prognofticate, they can't blow much longer.

Patient. Ay, Doctor, I have used them, I fear, with too much Vehemence: They have been ferviceable Lungs for our Cause. But give me a little better Comfort before you leave me.

Doct. If Blood-Letting, Coolers, Lambatives, and Pectorals, are Comforts, I fhall prescribe you enough, never fear: But I have your own Word, not to flatter you.

Patient. But do you think I may weather it, or how long is it probable I shall last?

Doct. Till you ftink, as far as I know: You should have fent for me fooner; and yet I am not certain, but that you may furvive it. I would have you chear up, Son of Thunder: A good Spirit is an half Cure in many Cafes: Befide, I know you black Gentlemen have a good trick at deceiving the D---1: It is your Business to do it ; ftand upon your guard; for it is pro Aris & Focis, now. Patient. I will, I will ; -But prithee don't be fo irreligious, Doctor; I have a great Refpect for your Conftancy in a good Caufe, and your Name has done us Service in Verfe and Profe.

Doct. Why, Sir, have you the Vanity to think that Religion ever did our Caufe any Service! If that comes

inte

into your Head, and you squeak at last, it is time for me to bid you good Night.

Patient. I will do any thing you order me; but I muft confefs, that I begin to think a Man can't die eafily without Repentance.

Doct. Farewel then; my Time is paft; there can be no Hopes if you talk at this Rate: I'll tell the Kit Cat Club of you, and it fhall be known to every Man at Court that you die like a Pedant. Farewell.

Confider with myself what the World will fay if this Dialogue is made publick: Yet it is true. Moft Doctors fo: A great Pity in a Man of his Parts. Call for my Servant. Refolve to forget Garth was with me. Order the Man to read a Chapter in the Revelations. Nothing about me there: Yet I am fick: I will feek the Lord in Prayer. Praying, a mighty good Thing. No Help in it. Apothecary comes: Talk with him about the Doctor. Shakes his Head: Talks over Words I don't understand: Refolve to follow his Advice however. Takes his Leave with three Bows. Meditate on the Vanities of Refpect, and Art of Compliments. Beft Things corrupted are the worst. Good Manners neceffary. Stomach begins' to recoil: What shall I do? Much Dubitation. Go to Bed: Order another Chapter to be read by my Bedfide. Jaiah talks finely, and rapturoufly. It is not worth while to live: It is. Recant all Things: Suppofe the Metropolitan fhould-----An excellent Suppofition. Grow much worfe. Sleep, O Sleep! but it will not come. Tofs, and think of ten thoufand Things all Night.

TUESDAY.