When he his trifles would for sale display, And act the mimic for a schoolboy's pay. 240 For many years he plied his humble trade, And used his tricks and talents to persuade; The fellow barely read, but chanced to look Among the fragments of a tatter'd book, Where, after many efforts made to spell One puzzling word, he found it _oxymel_: A potent thing, 'twas said, to cure the ills Of ailing lungs--the _oxymel of squills_. Squills he procured, but found the bitter strong, And most unpleasant; none would take it long; 250 But the pure acid and the sweet would make A med'cine numbers would for pleasure take. There was a fellow near, an artful knave, Who knew the plan, and much assistance gave; He wrote the puffs, and every talent plied To make it sell: it sold, and then he died. Now all the profit fell to Ned's control, And Pride and Avarice quarrell'd for his soul; When mighty profits by the trash were made, Pride built a palace, Avarice groan'd and paid; 260 Pride placed the signs of grandeur all about, And Avarice barr'd his friends and children out. Now see him doctor! yes, the idle fool, The butt, the robber of the lads at school; Who then knew nothing, nothing since acquired, Became a doctor, honour'd and admired; His dress, his frown, his dignity were such, Some who had known him thought his knowledge much; Nay, men of skill, of apprehension quick, Spite of their knowledge, trusted him when sick. 270 Though he could never reason, write, nor spell, } They yet had hope his trash would make them well; } And while they scorn'd his parts, they took his oxymel. } Oh! when his nerves had once received a shock, Sir Isaac Newton might have gone to Rock[52]: Hence impositions of the grossest kind; Hence thought is feeble, understanding blind; Hence sums enormous by those cheats are made, And deaths unnumber'd by their dreadful trade. Alas! in vain is my contempt express'd; 280 To stronger passions are their words address'd: To pain, to fear, to terror their appeal, To those who, weakly reasoning, strongly feel. What then our hopes?--perhaps there may by law Be method found, these pests to curb and awe; Yet in this land of freedom, law is slack With any being to commence attack; Then let us trust to science--there are those } Who can their falsehoods and their frauds disclose, } All their vile trash detect, and their low tricks expose. 290 } Perhaps their numbers may in time confound Their arts--as scorpions give themselves the wound: For, when these curers dwell in every place, While of the cured we not a man can trace, Strong truth may then the public mind persuade, And spoil the fruits of this nefarious trade.