On the First Fit of the Gout

Welcome, thou friendly earnest of fourscore, Promise of wealth, that hast alone the power T' attend the rich, unenvy'd by the poor. Thou that dost Aesculapius deride, And o'er his gally-pots in triumph ride; Thou that art us'd t' attend the royal throne, And under-prop the head that bears the crown; Thou that dost oft in privy council wait, And guard from drowzy sleep the eyes of state; Thou that upon the bench art mounted high, And warn'st the judges how they tread awry; Thou that dost oft from pamper'd prelate's toe Emphatically urge the pains below; Thou that art ever half the city's grace, And add'st to solemn noddles solemn pace; Thou that art us'd to sit on ladies knee, To feed on jellies, and to drink cold tea; Thou that art ne'er from velvet slipper free; Whence comes this unsought honour unto me? Whence does this mighty condescension flow? To visit my poor tabernacle, O—!

As Jove vouchsaf'd on Ida's top, 'tis said, At poor Philemon's cot to take a bed; Pleas'd with the poor but hospitable feast, Jove bid him ask, and granted his request; So do thou grant (for thou 'rt of race divine, Begot on Venus, by the God of Wine) My humble suit!—And either give me store To entertain thee, or ne'er see me more.