On the Man of Parts, and Head of the Press

How! Doctor! — You a man of parts! Pray, are you skillful in the arts? What science may you know? "I am the Head, Sir, of the press." You are! — Indeed, I thought no less; But say, how came you so?

Just as, on ancient cup-board carv'd, The rueful phyz of wight half-starv'd, Resembling—whom you'll guess: Plac'd by the joiner, there it stood A maggot-bitten head of wood; The Head, Sir, of the press.