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.