Yesterday the Zeus of stone from the doctor had a call – Though he’s Zeus and though he’s stone, yet today’s his funeral.
The patient surely had been lame for life, So Scalpel, pitying, killed him with his knife
Agelaus chanced, operating on a man, to kill. “Lucky wretch!” he cried: “Might have limped for life, but for my skill.
The physician who killed me, Neither bled, purge or pilled me, Nor counted my pulse but it comes to the same, In the height of my fever I thought of his name.