The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 423 : Sir _Pat._ And between Meals, good Wine, Sweet-meats, Caudles,--Cordials and Mirabilis

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 Aldermans.h.i.+p: 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 _f.a.n.n.y_.

_Fan._ Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they are a sort of new-fas.h.i.+on'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 _Devons.h.i.+re_.

_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 n.o.bly, 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_ b.u.t.ter-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 pa.s.s, 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.