“You Doctors are such funny chaps!”—­
Take care!
We know the dangers of Relapse. 
Beware!  Beware! 
Flout me not,
I’m not fooling thee!

“Too long you pillow us and pill us!”—­
Take care!
You don’t half know that blarmed bacillus. 
Beware!  Beware! 
Brave it not,
’Twill be flooring thee!

“The fever’s gone, the aches seem vanished.”
Take care!
They come back when you think ’em banished. 
Beware!  Beware! 
Trust ’em not,
They’ll be dodging thee!

“Oh, come, I say, look here, you know!”—­
Take care!
Your pulse is yet two beats too slow. 
Beware!  Beware! 
Trifle not,
Sense is schooling thee!

“Three weeks have I been on my back!”—­
Take care!
You don’t want to renew the rack. 
Beware!  Beware! 
East winds are out,
They’ll be cooling thee!

“It is a beast of a complaint!”—­
Take care!
Don’t storm!  Your pulse is fluttering, faint. 
Beware!  Beware! 
Worry not,
Think of syncope!

“Tush!  Taking Care’s the awfullest worry!”—­
Take care!
For “Complications” punish hurry. 
Beware!  Beware! 
Resist him not,
Who’d be ruling thee!

Keep warm indoors, take lots of rest.
Take care! 
That of all counsels is the best. 
Beware!  Beware!
Out?  Cert’nly not! 
For two weeks—­or three!

[Left fuming.

* * * * *

“ON THE SLY.”—­The name of Mr. J.E.  SLY was mentioned in the World last week as a candidate for the office of High Bailiff of the City of London Court.  Quite a Shakspearian name is Sly.  “Look in the Chronicles,” quoth Christopher of that ilk, “We came in with RICHARD Conqueror.”  We drink success to him in “a pot of the smallest ale” and “Let the World slip,”—­whether it did slip or not, the event will prove,—­“We shall ne’er be younger.”

* * * * *

“CHARLES, HIS FRIENDS.”—­The Gentlemen who sought to adorn King CHARLES’s statue with wreaths on the 30th January, are not to be beheaded.  Like the White Rose League, their Jacobark is worse than their Jacobite.

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

[Illustration:  (H)]

House of Commons, Tuesday, February 9.—­House met to-day for what, the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE’S GATE tells me, must needs be last Session of present Parliament.  Appropriately funereal air over scene and proceedings.  Usually Members return to work in highest spirits.  Remember, in years gone by, before the blight of neglect in high places fell upon him, how dear old PETER RYLANDS enjoyed himself on these occasions.  What long strides he used to take, bustling to and fro!  What thunderous slaps of friendly welcome he bestowed on shrinking shoulders!  What digs of deep and subtle humour he dealt to unresponsive ribs!