A Budget of Wit and Humour; Or, Morsels of Mirth for the Melancholy. Or, Morsels of Mirth for the Melancholy a Certain Cure for 'The Blues, ' and Al
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ISBN10: 1155045009
ISBN13: 9781155045009
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 34
Weight: 0.18
Height: 0.07 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
ISBN13: 9781155045009
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 34
Weight: 0.18
Height: 0.07 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1849. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... THE TWO PHYSICIANS. A Rich old gent, was taken ill, And sent for two physicians, To come with haste, or death would kill, And stop all his petitions. They came together, to the time-- For both kept stylish coaches-- With canes and wigs of wisdom prime, The sick man's bed approaches. Spoken-- Good morning, Dr. Bolus, how do you do? Pretty Well, I thank you, sir, how are you? Never better, sir, in all my life. Come, sir; suppose we examine the case. Ah, sir! poor master's very bad; I don't think he'll ever recover. Nonsense, woman, nonsense; do you think I have no skill? Ay, woman, do you think I have no ability? Ah, dear! when two doctors are sent for. We are no doctors, woman, we are physicians. Ah, dear! so much the worse; it has a shocking deathly appearance, to see two in a house at once. Come rich and poor, and low and high, Good folks of all conditions; You have only, when you wish to die, To send for two physicians. Doctor Bolus first drew near, And felt his pulse: 0! a fever. Says t'other-- Sir, 0 dear! 0 dear! In that I'm no believer: You surely have no skill at all; I can't think how the plague you Can, with sense, a fever call, What is so plain an ague. Spoken-- An ague! Zounds, sir; the patient is in a high fever, and unless that is abated he is a dead man. He must lose nineteen ounces of blood; have six leeches; four blisters; three emetics; four cathartics: he must then put his feet in hot water, and immediately be wrapped in sixteen blankets. Why sir, you would physic him to death, and smother him afterwards. In my opinion, sir, it's a plain ague, sir. He must have all the clothes off, sir, and all the windows thrown open. If this is your skilful mode of practice, no wonder your patients never recover. Sir, there is not on...
