From “The Borough”
BUT now our Quacks are gamesters, and they play
With craft and skill to ruin and betray;
With monstrous promise they delude the mind,
And thrive on all that tortures human-kind.
  Void of all honor, avaricious, rash,
The daring tribe compound their boasted trash,—
Tincture or syrup, lotion, drop or pill;
All...