I sent for Ratcliffe, was so ill,
That other doctors gave me over,
He felt my pulse, prescribed his pill,
And I was likely to recover.
But when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm'd the politician,
Cured yesterday of my disease,
I died last night of my physician.
More verses by Matthew Prior
- The Ladle. A Tale
- Solomon On The Vanity Of The World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book Ii.
- The Conversation. A Tale
- Songs Set To Music: 5. Set By Mr. De Fesch
- An Ode - Inscribed To The Memory Of The Hon. Colonel George Villiers