Sir _Pat._ And between Meals, good Wine, Sweet-meats, Caudles,--Cordials and Mirabilises, to keep up my fainting Spirits.
Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Aldermanship: an the whole Bench were such notable Swingers, 'twould famish the City sooner than a Siege.
_Amst._ Brothers, what do you think of this Man?
_Leyd._ Think, Sir? I think his Case is desperate.
Sir _Cred._ Shaw, Sir, we shall soon rectify the quiblets and quillities of his Blood, if he observes our Directions and Diet, which is to eat but once in four or five days.
Sir _Pat._ How, Sir, eat but once in four or five days? such a Diet, Sir, would kill me; alas, Sir, kill me.
Sir _Cred._ Oh no, Sir, no; for look ye, Sir, the Case is thus, do you mind me--so that the Business lying so obvious, do ye see, there is a certain Method, do ye mark me--in a--Now, Sir, when a Man goes about to alter the course of Nature,--the case is very plain, you may as well arrest the Chariot of the Sun, or alter the Eclipses of the Moon; for, Sir, this being of another Nature, the Nature of it is to be unnatural, you conceive me, Sir?--therefore we must crave your absence, Sir, for a few Minutes, till we have debated this great Affair.
Sir _Pat._ With all my heart, Sir, since my Case is so desperate, a few hours were not too much.
[Ex. Sir _Pat._
Sir _Cred._ Now, Sir, my service to you. [Drinks.
Enter _Fanny_.
_Fan._ Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they are a sort of new-fashion'd Conventiclers:--I'll hear 'em preach.
[They drink round the while.
_Amst._ Sir, my service to you, and to your good Lady, Sir.
_Leyd._ Again to you, Sir, not forgetting your Daughters: they are fine Women, Sir, let Scandal do its worst.
[Drinks.
_Turb._ To our better trading, Sir.
_Brun._ Faith, it goes but badly on, I had the weekly Bill, and 'twas a very thin Mortality; some of the better sort die indeed, that have good round Fees to give.
_Turb._ Verily, I have not kill'd above my five or six this Week.
_Brun._ How, Sir, kill'd?
_Turb._ Kill'd, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the grand _Verole_; for 'tis not for a Man's Credit to let the Patient want an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill'd ye my five or six dozen a Week--but times are hard.
_Brun._ I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation.
[Sir _Cred._ and _Fat_ seeming in Discourse.
Sir _Cred._ Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir-- [Drinks.] Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in all _Devonshire_.
_Fat_ D. And I the finest Spaniel, Sir.
[Here they all talk together till you come to--_purpose, Sir_.
_Turb._ Pray, what News is there stirring?
_Brun._ Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whether _Lewis_ or _Philip_ have the better or the worst.
_Turb._ Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.
_Brun._ You are i'th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.
_Leyd._ Well, Sir, _Stetin_ held out nobly, though the Gazettes are various.
_Amst._ There's a world of Men kill'd they say; why, what a shame 'tis so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.
_Leyd._ Hang 'em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my service to you, Sir, they'll serve to fill up Trenches.
Sir _Cred._ Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses better than my self.
_Fat_ D. Your pardon for that, Sir.
Sir _Cred._ For look ye, Sir, I'll tell you the Nature of Dogs and Horses.
_Fat_ D. So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what's this to th' purpose, Sir?
[Here they leave off.
Sir _Cred._ To th' purpose, Sir! good Mr. _Hedleburgh_, do you understand what's to th' purpose? you're a _Dutch_ Butter-ferkin, a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.
_Fat_ D. You're an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.
Sir _Cred._ You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.
_Amst._ What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.
Sir _Cred._ That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is't since you left Toping and Napping, for Quacking, good Brother Cater-tray?--but let that pass, for I'll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with no Man, and so I drink.-- [Goes to fill again.
_Brun._ --But, what's all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?
Sir _Cred._ Ay,--the Wine's all out,--and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive necessary to be said for our Fees.
_Fat_ D. I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he's a dead Man.
Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, a dead Man.
_Fat_ D. Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor.
[To _Amst._
_Amst._ Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I at the Board.
Sir _Cred._ A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dying [Aside.]
--Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years.
[They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other.
_Amst._ I commenc'd at _Paris_ twenty years ago.