Love of Fame, The Universal Passion

Satire I1.168Nature is frugal, and her wants are few;1.169Those few wants answer'd, bring sincere delights;1.170But fools create themselves new appetites:1.171Fancy and pride seek things at vast expense,1.172Which relish not to reason, nor to sense.1.173When surfeit, or unthankfulness, destroys,1.174In nature's narrow sphere, our solid joys,1.175In fancy's airy land of noise and show,1.176Where nought but dreams, no real pleasures grow;1.177Like cats in air-pumps, to subsist we strive1.178On joys too thin to keep the soul alive.1.179Lemira's sick; make haste; the doctor call:1.180He comes; but where's his patient? At the ball.1.181The doctor stares; her woman curt'sies low,1.182And cries, "My lady, sir, is always so:1.183Diversions put her maladies to flight;1.184True, she can't stand, but she can dance all night:1.185I've known my lady (for she loves a tune)1.186For fevers take an opera in June:1.187And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold,1.188A midnight park is sovereign for a cold:1.189With colics, breakfasts of green fruit agree;1.190With indigestions, supper just at three."1.191A strange alternative, replied Sir Hans,1.192Must women have a doctor, or a dance?1.193Though sick to death, abroad they safely roam,1.194But droop and die, in perfect health, at home:1.195For want--but not of health, are ladies ill;1.196And tickets cure beyond the doctor's bill.