University of Virginia Library

SCENE.
—An Inn.
Enter Balthazar, as having fallen from his Horse, supported by Volante, the Count, &c. and preceded by Hostess and Attendants.
Hostess.

This way, this way, if you please.—Alas!
poor gentleman! (Brings a chair.)
How do you feel
now, sir? (They set him down.)

Balthazar.
I almost think my brains are where they should be—
Confound the jade!—tho' they dance merrily
To their own music.

Count.
Is a surgeon sent for?

Hostess.
Here he comes, sir.

Enter Lampedo.
Lampedo.
Is this the gentleman?

Balthazar.

I want no surgeon; all my bones are
whole.

Volante.
Pray, take advice!

Balthazar.
Well!—Doctor, I have doubts
Whether my soul be shaken from my body,—
Else I am whole.

Lampedo.
Then you are safe, depend on't;
Your soul and body are not yet divorc'd—
Tho' if they were, we have a remedy.—
Nor have you fracture, sir, simple or compound;—
Yet very feverish! I begin to fear
Some inward bruise—a very raging pulse!—
We must phlebotomize!

Balthazar.
You won't! Already
There is too little blood in these old veins
To do my cause full justice.

Lampedo.
Quick, and feverish!—
He must lie down a little; for as yet,
His blood and spirits being all in motion,
There is too great confusion in the symptoms
To judge discreetly from.

Balthazar.
I'll not lie down!

Volante.
Nay; for an hour or so!

Balthazar.
Well, be it so.

Hostess.

I'll shew you to a chamber; this way,
this way, if you please.

[Exeunt all but Lampedo.
Lampedo solus.
'Tis the first patient, save the miller's mare,
And an old lady's cat that has the phthisic,
That I have touch'd these six weeks.—Well, good Hostess!
(Enter Hostess.)
How fares your guest?

Hostess.
He must not go to-night!

Lampedo.
No—nor to-morrow—

Hostess.
Nor the next day, neither!

Lampedo.
Leave that to me.—

Hostess.
He has no hurt, I fear.

Lampedo.
None:—but, as you're his cook, and I'm his doctor,
Such things may happen.—You must make him ill,
And I must keep him so—for, to say truth,
'Tis the first biped customer I've handled
This many a day:—they fall but slowly in,—
Like the subscribers to my work on fevers.—

Hostess.
Hard times indees!—no business stirring my way.

Lampedo.
So I should guess, from your appearance, Hostess.
You look as if, for lack of company,
You were obliged to eat up your whole larder.

Hostess.
Alas! 'tis so—
Yet I contrive to keep my spirits up.

Lampedo.
Yes; and your flesh too.—Look at me!

Hostess.
Why, truly,
You look half starv'd

Lampedo.
Half starv'd! I wish you'd tell me
Which half of me is fed. I shew more points
Than an old horse, that has been three weeks pounded—
Yet I do all to tempt them into sickness.
Have I not, in the jaws of bankruptcy,
And to the desolation of my person,
Painted my shop, that it looks like a rainbow?—
New double-gilt my pestle and my mortar,
That some, at distance, take't for a new planet?
And blaz'd in flaming letters o'er my door,
Each one a glorious constellation,
Surgeon, apothecary, accoucheur—
(For midwife is grown vulgar)?—Yet they ail not:
Phials and gallipots still keep their ranks,
As if there was no cordial virtue in them.
The healing chime of pulverising drugs
They shun as 'twere a tolling bell, or death-watch.
I never give a dose, or set a limb!—
But, come, we must devise, we must devise
How to make much of this same guest, sweet Hostess.

Hostess.
You know I always make the most of them.

Lampedo.
Spoke like an antient tapstress!—Come, let's in—
And, whilst I sooth my bowels with an omelette
(For, like a nest of new-wak'd rookings, Hostess,
They caw for provender), and take a glass
Of thy Falernian—we will think of means;
For tho' to cure men be beyond our skill,
'Tis hard indeed if we can't keep them ill.

[Exeunt.