St. Patricks Day | Page 8

I am revenged on
her unnatural father; for this morning, in your chocolate, I had the
pleasure to administer to you a dose of poison!_--Mercy on us!
Just. No tricks, Bridget; come, you know it is not so; you know it is a
lie.
_Mrs. Bri_. Read it yourself.
Just. [Reads.] _Pleasure to administer a dose of poison_!--Oh, horrible!
Cut-throat villain!--Bridget!
_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 yourself.

_Re-enter_ SERVANT.
Ser. Your worship!
Just. Stay, John; did you perceive anything in my chocolate cup this
morning?
Ser. Nothing, your worship, unless it was a little grounds.
Just. What colour were they?
Ser. Blackish, your worship.
Just. Ay, arsenic, black arsenic!--Why don't you run for Dr. 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 capitals! 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!
Rosy. And that wild stare in your right eye!
Just. In my right eye?
Rosy. Ay, and, alack, alack, how you are swelled!
Just. Swelled!
Rosy. Ay, don't you think he is, madam?
_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. What?
Just. I'm poisoned, I say!
Rosy. Speak out!
Just. What! can't you hear me?
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, Dr. 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 the thoughts of
leaving you behind.
_Re-enter_ DOCTOR ROSY, with LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR
disguised.
Rosy. Great luck; met him passing by the door.
_O'Con_. Metto dowsei pulsum.
Rosy. He desires me to feel your pulse.
Just. Can't he speak English?
Rosy. Not a word.
_O'Con_. Palio vivem mortem soonem.
Rosy. He says you have not six