I Was Not Born For

Age And Want Sit Smiling At The Gate.

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.

So Modern 'pothecaries, Taught The Art By Doctor's Bills To Play The Doctor's Part, Bold In The Practice Of Mistaken Rules, Prescribe, Apply, And Call Their Masters Fools.

A Wise Physician, Skill'd Our Wounds To Heal, Is More Than Armies To The Public Weal.

Dear, Damned, Distracting Town, Farewell! Thy Fools No More I'll Tease: This Year In Peace, Ye Critics, Dwell, Ye Harlots, Sleep At Ease!