Bell. A good morning to you, Sir.
Skin. A good morning to you, Nephew. Auh! auh!
Bell. I am sorry to hear, Sir, you have had so bad a Night.
Skin. I had indeed, Nephew; I was afraid it was all over. Such another Fit would carry me off. Auh! auh!
Bell. But you are pretty well this morning, I hope, Sir.
Skin. Something better but very weak—very faint indeed, Nephew! O—o—o, very faint.
Bell. You should take something comfortable, Sir—Cordials to repair the breaches you Illness hath made.
Skin. Lord, Nephew, it would require such a monstrous deal of Money, and really these Syringe Carriers and Glyster Baggs and Doctors give themselves such Airs, that a Man can't have their Assistance, nor any of their Druggs and Slops under their Weight in Gold; therefore, I think, Nephew, since we are to dye we had better save our Money.
Bell. I grant you, Sir, the Fees of Surgeons and Physicians are exorbitant,—yet as Health and Life are our most valuable Blessings, we might lay a little out in Support of them—I mean in Cases of very great Danger.
Skin. No, no, the—auh, auh!—the Tenement is not worth the Repairs—auh—auh—I am like an old House that is ready to drop—the first high Wind, down I shall go—the next fit will carry me off.