COUNTRYMAN.--But suppose she dies in the meantime?

RHUBARB PILL.--That's her fault. I won't do anything by proxy. I must
direct my own _administration_, appoint my own nurses for the bed-chamber,
have my own herbalists and assistants, and see Doctor Russell's "_purge_"
thrown out of the window. In short, _I must be regularly called in_.
Balaam, blow the trumpet.

[_Balaam blows the trumpet, the crowd shout, and the Doctor bows
gracefully, with one hand on his heart and the other in his breeches
pocket. At the end of the applause he commences singing_].

I am called Doctor Pill, the political quack,
And a quack of considerable standing and note;
I've clapp'd many a blister on many a back,
And cramm'd many a bolus down many a throat,
I have always stuck close, like the rest of my tribe,
And physick'd my patient as long as he'd pay;
And I say, when I'm ask'd to advise or prescribe,
"_You must wait till I'm call'd in a regular way_."

Old England has grown rather sickly of late,
For Russell's _reduced_ her almost to a shade;
And I've honestly told him, for nights in debate,
He's a quack that should never have follow'd the trade.
And, Lord! how he fumes, and exultingly cries,
"Were you in my place, Pill, pray what would _you_ say?"
But I only reply, "If I am to advise,
_I shall wait till I'm call'd in a regular way_."