A Petition

Would, Sir, that I could win your ear, A favour is petition’d here, Though much you have already done, Yet bear with one request from me: Your patient, now, I fain would be, If granted so desir’d a boon; A plan might be devis’d that would Be blest, who knows, to do me good. And, O! it were a happy thing! ’Twould greatly better my condition, Spread your fame as a physician, Double pleasure thence would spring. Not that I mean your skill’s denied, If so, I had not first applied, Much less my pleading now renew; But curing such a stubborn case, Your usefulness would much increase, Tho’ fame should weigh but light with you. One kind to me before, now gone, Did all that long could have been done; This lameness to prevent, and cure, But then my wavering constitution, More than now, was in confusion, And resisted med’cine’s power. One time I had a minute’s talk, With you ’bout helping me to walk, But you declin’d so hard a task, And I was then, as at this day, So troublesome another way, I wanted courage more to ask. But measur’d lines possess a power, At least I’ve known it so before, They’ve gain’d a cause which else had fail’d, When told in truth’s persuasive spirit, Meaning well, though poor in merit; Ev’n such verses have prevail’d; Please, Sir, let such prevail with you, And try what art and means can do, To make me walk though lame and slow: I think you nothing can propose, As process, regimen, or dose, But I will patient undergo: And after all if means are vain, I will not murmur, or complain, When both have done the best we may; Do promise, once to make a trial, Nor kill weak hope with a denial, And your petitioner will pray.