The Sun.
London, England, 1835-04-14 00:00:00

JOHN BULL'S DILEMMA ;

AND HOW IT ENDED.

" Trust not that physician,
His antidotes are poison."— Tinton of Athens.

John Bull (ell sick the other day,
Or fancied himself in a sickly way—
For John, as you see by the Daily Papers,
Is apt now and then to get the vapors—
So damning for a conceited prig
His old physician, Doctor Whig,
And rudely showing him to the door, he
Sent in a huff for Doctor Tory.
The Doctor came, and when duly fee'd,
Told John his case was bad indeed ;
" Whig's Russell Purge," * quoth he with a laugh,
Has made your nerves too strong by half,
Like a miser hampered by too much wealth,
You're restless from super-abundant health ;
But I've a dose that by sure degrees
Shall allay your plethoric miseries, •
And restore you to what you were in your prime—
How lucky you called me in, in time !"
So saying, he shrewdly itiook his head,
For never Quack better knew his trade,
In all he did and all he said ;
In bleeding—prescribing steel-draught, or bolus,
He stood; as dramatists call it, solus ;
His address, too, was so debonnaire,
And he hoaxed poor John with such an air,
That he swallowed his words, for gospel true,
And, what's worse, swallowed his physick too.
Four months thus passed, but, sad to say,
Instead of improving day by day,
John Bull fell more and more away ;
(And what made it a harder case, I ween,
His Doctor grew fat as he grew lean)
He lost his spirits ; he lost his pelf,
He seemed but the ghost of his former self;
And crept about with so wan a smile,
Grumbling so bitterly all the while,
That at length brother Pat took up the case t,
And looking him kindly in the face,
Said, " bless me, John, how thin you've grown?
You're really nothing but skin andsbbne ;
Pray change your system, and to begin, do
Just throw your physick out of the window,
And next, to stop the fellow's laughter,
Throw your medical man out after;
He's sure to be your death, I wis,
So you may just as well be Ids."
John hemmed and hawed, but one must not stand
Hemming and hawing when death's at hand,
So when the Doctor came next morning,
Ix a few blunt words John gave him warning ;
" I'm dying" quoth he, and he grimly laughed,
" Of your MANIFESTO sleeping draught ;
You swore 'twould make me well, but, curse
The poisonous drug, it has made me worse;
Since I took it first, I've done nought but pout
So there's the door, you scamp, get out."
" Worse, John ?" replied grave Doctor Tory,
With the air of Doctor Slop in the story, t
" Why, you've not yet given it a fair trial ;
Just try and swallow another vial ;
Come, don't be foolish, but drink, pray do—.
You don't know what's for your good, not you !"
While thus he ran on in a plausible tone
Of voice, "peculiarly his own,"
John looked about him, and seizing a stick
(A handsome cudgel four inches thick,
Which he kept, so full were his days of events,
Beside him, in case of accidents)
Began on old Tory's head to rain
Such a shower of blows, that the Doctor's brain
Spun round and round like a house-maid's mop—
In vain he called out, " Stop, John, stop ;
Oh lord, my sides !—You're surely mad ;
I'm the very best friend you ever had "
John laid about him all the faster,
'Till having, like some stern school-master,
Well disciplined the deceitful lout,
He opened the door, and kicked him out. •
A week or two after as, late one day,
I chanced to be strolling by that way,
I saw with delight, as in times of yore,
Whig's carriage standing at John Bull's door,
And was told that by treatment mild and steady,
The Doctor had done him much good already §.

* Vide, Sir Charles Wetherell's description of the Reform Bill.
t In allusion to Mr. O'Connell's vehement denunciations of the
Tory Ministry during the late elections.
Vide Sterne's " Tristram Shandy."
§ This of course is said in anticipation of the way in which the
Whigs are likely for the future to govern the country. We hope
the anticipation will be realized.