Behold yonder empiric strutting his rounds,
When at shop he can find neither tumours nor wounds;
He's a blackguard when wroth, and a puppy when cool,
And the veriest dunce that e'er stood on a stool.
He was whipt and wore bells, as a zany at school,
What a pity to whip such a natural fool.

QUERY.

Then why flog him now, if you'd spare him at school?
Because he's become something worse than a fool.