The noodles from his ignorance and knavery and bounce?
No law to lay him by the heels, no hangman's whip to trounce,
No pillory to gibbet the false fortune-piling pack
Who poison, maim, and madden with their Quack! Quack! Quack?
Dulcamara stands defiant, while his drum the live air fills
With praise of his appliances, his potions, and his pills.
With sham science for his shield, venal literature and art
For his touts and advertisers, he can bravely play his part.
The comic man will clown for him, if adequately paid,
And the poet and the painter puff his wares and push his trade.