These vile Perkineans must be routed;
Then, if in future people be sick,
They’ll worship us, the gods of physic.
Why stand ye now, like drones, astounded,
The weapons of your warfare grounded?
Arm’d cap-a-pe, like heroes rush on,
And crush this reptile institution.
But first, to make the bigger bluster,
Join every quack that you can muster,
Some place in rear, and some in front on,