Jel. (aside.) I know that. (Aloud.) Indeed, my dear sir, you are mistaken. Time passes very quick when we are fast asleep. I have been watching you and keeping the flies off. But you must now take your draught, my dear sir, and your pill first.
Cad. What! more pills and more draughts! Why, there’s no end to them.
Jel. Yes, there will be, by and by, my dear sir. You know Doctor Gumarabic has ordered you take one pill and one draught every half hour.
Cad. And so I have—never missed one for the last six weeks—woke up for them day and night. I feel very weak—very weak, indeed! Don’t you think I might eat something, my dear Mrs Jellybags?
Jel. Eat, my dear Mr Cadaverous!—how can you ask me, when you know that Doctor Gumarabic says that it would be the death of you?
Cad. Only the wing of a chicken,—or a bit of the breast—
Jel. Impossible!
Cad. A bit of dry toast, then; any thing, my dear Mrs Jellybags. I’ve such a gnawing—Ugh! ugh!
Jel. My dear sir, you would die if you swallowed the least thing that’s nourishing.
Cad. I’m sure I shall die if I do not. Well, then, a little soup—I should like that very much indeed.