COUNTRYMAN.--Then why doant'ee tell us?

RHUBARB PILL.--It's not professional. Besides, it's quite requisite that I
should "_feel the patient's pulse_," or I might make the dose too powerful,
and so--

COUNTRYMAN.--Get the sack, Mr. Doctor.

RHUBARB PILL (_aside_).--Blow the trumpet, Balaam.

BALAAM.--Too-too-tooit--tooit-too-too!

RHUBARB PILL.--And so do more harm than good. Besides, I should require to
have the "_necessary consultations_" over the dinner-table. Diet does a
great deal--not that I care about the "loaves and fishes"--but patients are
always more tractable after a good dinner. Now there's an old lady in these
parts--

COUNTRYMAN.--What, my old missus?

RHUBARB PILL.--The same. She's in a desperate way.

COUNTRYMAN.--Ees. Dr. Russell says it's all owing to your nasty nosdrums.

RHUBARB PILL.--Doctor Russell's a--never mind. I say she _is_ very bad, and
I AM the only man that can cure her.

COUNTRYMAN--Then out wi'it, doctor--what will?

RHUBARB PILL.--_Wait till I'm regularly called in._