MRS. CANDOUR. Aye Doctor how's your Patient?

SIR BENJAMIN. Now Doctor isn't it a wound with a small sword----

CRABTREE. A bullet lodged in the Thorax--for a hundred!

SIR OLIVER. Doctor!--a wound with a small sword! and a Bullet
in the Thorax!--oon's are you mad, good People?

SIR BENJAMIN. Perhaps, Sir, you are not a Doctor.

SIR OLIVER. Truly Sir I am to thank you for my degree If I am.

CRABTREE. Only a Friend of Sir Peter's then I presume--but, sir,
you must have heard of this accident--

SIR OLIVER. Not a word!

CRABTREE. Not of his being dangerously wounded?

SIR OLIVER. The Devil he is!

SIR BENJAMIN. Run thro' the Body----

CRABTREE. Shot in the breast----

SIR BENJAMIN. By one Mr. Surface----

CRABTREE. Aye the younger.