Epigram On Dr. ****, A Mere Pretender To Medical Science, Officiously Offering Me His Services

'Should you e'er be unwell, send directly for me;
To cure you I'll haste with all possible speed,
Prescribe and find medicine without any fee.'
Oh! Doctor! your offer's most generous indeed;
I'd accept but for something the vast obligation.
'But for what, pray?' The instinct of self-preservation.

* * * * *

If, as Swift says, in the most delicate mind
Nastiest ideas we are sure to find,
Then equal to his humour and his wit
Swift's delicacy we must all admit.