Works

I made an Epigram today against drinking; the Town raves so about the Prince of Wales getting drunk till he breaks His Blood Vessells.—Sir Rich^d Jebb¹ would like the Verses very well I fancy— here they are²

Of various Ills our Prince complains

Of various Ills our Prince complains,
Rheumatic Aches, & Gouty Pains;
Sir Richard cries I can but think
These Evils all proceed from Drink;
My Royal Patient change your Course,
Of all these Symptoms Wine's the Source;
The Fountain whence these Sorrows spring,
It is indeed—the Wine's the Thing.
If says the Prince you thus explain
My Case—the Remedy is plain:
'Tis a hot Summer,—l'll e'en try
To drink this fatal Fountain dry.

Footnotes

1. Her doctor.↩︎
2. They are imitated from an old Latin Epigram. & that from a Greek one I believe." Mrs Thrale.↩︎