"Make me your majesty's physician,"
Cried a poor mean consumptive elf.
"I'll be your majesty's musician,"
Said one who seem'd a corporation of himself.
"Ask," quoth the mayor, "whate'er you want,
And all, aye, more than all, I'll grant,
Should heav'n bestow the golden fleece,
By George! I'll make you dukes apiece!"—
—"Fools, fools apiece," exclaim'd a fat
Old wag, who in a corner sat.