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Mrs. Bri. Lovee, stay, here's a postscript.—[Reads.] N.B. 'Tis not in the power of medicine to save you.
Just. Odds my life, Bridget! why don't you call for help? I've lost my voice.—My brain is giddy-I shall burst, and no assistance.—John !-Laury !-John !
Mrs. Bri. You see, lovee, what you have brought on your self.
Ser. Nothing, your worship, unless it was a little grounds.
Just. Ay, arsenic, black arsenic !—Why don't you run for Doctor Rosy, you rascal ?
Ser. Now, sir ?
Mrs. Bri. Oh, lovee, you may be sure it is in vain : let him run for the lawyer to witness your will, my life.
Just. Zounds ! go for the doctor, you scoundrel. You are all confederate murderers. Ser. Oh, here he is, your worship.
[Exit. Just. Now, Bridget, hold your tongue, and let me see if my horrid situation be apparent.
Enter DOCTOR Rosy. Rosy. I have but just called to inform-hey! bless me, what's the matter with your worship?
Just. There, he sees it already !—Poison in my face, in ca. pitals! Yes, yes, I'm a sure job for the undertakers indeed !
Mrs. Bri. Oh! oh! alas, doctor ! Just. Peace, Bridget !Why, doctor, my dear old friend, do you really see any change in me?
Rosy. Change! never was man so altered : how came these black spots on your nose ?
Just. Spots on my nose !
Mrs. Bri. Oh, 'tis in vain to conceal it !—Indeed, lovee, you, are as big again as you were this morning.
Just. Yes, I feel it now—I'm poisoned !-Doctor, help me
for the love of justice! Give me life to see my murderer hanged.
Rosy. Your voice is so low and hollow, as it were, I can't hear a word you say.
Just. I'm gone then !-Hic jacet, many years one of his majesty's justices !
Mrs. Bri. Read, doctor !-Ah, lovee, the will !-Consider, my life, how soon you will be dead. Just. No, Bridget, I shall die by inches.
Rosy. I never heard such monstrous iniquity:-Oh, you are gone indeed, my friend ! the mortgage of your little bit of clay is out, and the sexton has nothing to do but to close. We must all go, sooner or later-high and low-Death's a debt; his mandamus binds all alike-no bail, no demurrer.
just. Silence, Doctor Croaker ! will you cure me or will you not?
Rosy. Alas ! my dear friend, it is not in my power, but I'll certainly see justice done on your murderer.
Just. I thank you, my dear friend, but I had rather see it myself. Rosy. Ay, but if you recover, the villain will escape.
Mrs. Bri. Will he? then indeed it would be a pity you should recover. I am so enraged against the villain, I can't bear the thought of his escaping the halter.
Just. That's very kind in you, my dear; but if it's the same thing to you, my dear, I had as soon recover, notwithstanding. -What, doctor, no assistance !
Rosy. Efacks, I can do nothing, but there's the German quack, whom you wanted to send from town; I met him at the next door, and I know he has antidotes for all poisons.
Just. Fetch him, my dear friend, fetch him! I'll get him a diploma if he cures me.
Rosy. Well, there's no time to be lost; you continue to swell immensely.
[Exit. Mrs. Bri. What, my dear, will you submit to be cured by a quack nostrum-monger? For my part, as much as I love you, I had rather follow you to your grave than see you owe your life to any but a regular-bred physician.
Just. I'm sensible of your affection, dearest; and be assured
nothing consoles me in my melancholy situation so much as
Rosy. Great luck; met him passing by the door.
Rosy. He says he'll undertake to cure you for three thousand pounds.
Mrs. Bri. Three thousand pounds! three thousand halters ! --No, lovee, you shall never submit to such impositions ; die at once, and be a customer to none of them.
Just. I won't die, Bridget--I don't like death.
Mrs. Bri. Pshal there is nothing in it: a moment, and it is over.
Just. Ay, but it leaves a numbness behind that lasts a plaguy
Mrs. Bri. O my dear, pray consider the will.
Rosy. The doctor is astonished at the sight of your fait daughter.
Just. How so?
Rosy. He says that he has lost his heart to her, and that if you will give him leave to pay his addresses to the young lady, and promise your consent to the union, if he should gain her affections, he will, on those conditions, cure you instantly, without fee or reward.
Just. The devil! did he say all that in so few words? What a fine language it is! Well, I agree, if he can prevail on the girl.—[ Aside.] And that I am sure he never will.
Rosy. He says you must give this under your hand, while he writes you a miraculous receipt.
[Both sit down to write. Lau. Do, mamma, tell me the meaning of this. Mrs. Bri. Don't speak to me, girl. - Unnatural parent ! Just. There, doctor; there's what he requires. Rosy. And here's your receipt: read it yourself. Just
. Hey! what's here? plain English! Rosy. Read it out; a wondrous nostrum, I'll answer for it.
Just. [Reads.] In reading this you are cured, by your affectionate son-in-law, O'CONNOR.—Who, in the name of Beelzebub, sirrah, who are you?
O Con. Your affectionate son-in-law, O'Connor, and your very humble servant, Humphrey Hum.
Just. 'Tis false, you dog! you are not my son-in-law; for I'll be poison'd again, and you shall be hanged.--I'll die, sirrah, and leave Bridget my estate.
Mrs. Bri. Ay, pray do, my dear, leave me your estate ; I'm sure he deserves to be hanged.
Just. He does you say !-Hark’ee, Bridget, you showed such a tender concern for me when you thought me poisoned, that, for the future, I am resolved never to take your advice again in anything. -[TO LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR.] So, do you hear, sir, you are an Irishman and a soldier, ain't you?
O Con. I am, sir, and proud of both. Just. The two things on earth I most hate; so I'll tell you what-renounce your country and sell your commission, and I'll forgive you.
O Con. Hark’ee, Mr. Justice-if you were not the father of my Lauretta, I would pull your nose for asking the first, and break your bones for desiring the second.
Rosy. Ay, ay, you're right.
give my daughter to you, who are the most impudent dog I ever saw in my life.
O'Con. Oh, sir, say what you please; with such a gift ar Lauretta, every word is a compliment.
Mrs. Bri. Well, my lovee, I think this will be a good subject for us to quarrel about the rest of our lives.
Just. Why, truly, my dear, I think so, though we are seldom at a loss for that.
Rosy. This is all as it should be.--My Alexander, I give you joy, and you, my little god-daughter; and now my sincere wish is, that you may make just such a wife as my poor dear Dolly.