Page:The Village - Crabbe (1783).djvu/25

 Anon, a figure enters, quaintly neat, All pride and business, bustle and conceit; With looks unalter'd by these scenes of woe, With speed that entering, speaks his haste to go; He bids the gazing throng around him fly, And carries fate and physic in his eye; A potent quack, long vers'd in human ills, Who first insists the victim whom he kills; Whole murd'rous hand a drowsy bench protect, And whose most tender mercy is neglect.

Paid by the parish for attendance here, He wears contempt upon his sapient sneer; In haste he seeks the bed where misery lies, Impatience mark'd in his averted eyes; And, some habitual queries hurried o'er, Without reply, he rushes on the door; Rh