to fetch and carry,
And not to pass opinions in the presence of the Vet.
But he _does_ look dicky, Mister; I've tried bolus, I've tried
blister,
But I haven't got him up to his old form by chalks, Sir, _yet_!

_Vet._ (_dubiously_). You're a bit new at the "biz.," lad, and I
tell you what it is, lad,--
These thoroughbreds aren't managed like a dray-horse, don'tcher
know.
They want very careful feeding, and Sangrado purge or bleeding
Won't suit our modern strain--of man _or_ horse. Steady, lad!
Woa! [_Examines him._

_Groom_ (_rather sulkily_). Well, Sir, what do you make it?

_Vet._ Off his feed?

_Groom_. Well, he don't take it.
Not voracious, so to speak, Sir, as he do when cherry ripe.

_Vet._ Ah-h-h! May want a change of diet. Eye is neither bright
_nor_ quiet,
And his coat seems dull and roughish, though he's sound in pulse
and pipe.

_Stable-help_. Don't take kindly to his fodder, and, what _I_
thinks even odder,
With a temper like a hangel, gits a bit inclined to kick.
Landed _'Art Dyke_ a fair wunner!