The quack, through dread of death, confess’d
That he was of no skill possess’d;
But all this great and glorious job
Was made of nonsense and the mob.
Then did the king his peers convoke,
And thus unto th’ assembly spoke:
“My lords and gentlemen, I rate
Your folly as inordinate,
Who trust your heads into his hand,
Where no one had his heels japann’d.”—