Jel. Soup! it would be poison, my dear sir! No, no. You must take your pill and your draught.
Cad. Oh dear! oh dear!—Forty-eight pills and forty-eight draughts every twenty-four hours!—not a wink of sleep day or night.
Jel. (soothingly.) But it’s to make you well, you know, my dear Mr Cadaverous. Come, now. (Hands him a pill and some water in a tumbler.)
Cad. The last one is hardly down yet;—I feel it sticking half-way. Ugh! ugh!
Jel. Then wash them both down at once. Come, now, ’tis to make you well, you know.
Cadaverous takes the pill with a wry face, and coughs it up again.
Cad. Ugh! ugh! There—it’s up again. Oh dear! oh dear!
Jel. You must take it, my dear sir. Come, now, try again.
Cad. (coughing.) My cough is so bad. (Takes the pill.) Oh, my poor head! Now I’ll lie down again.
Jel. Not yet, my dear Mr Cadaverous. You must take your draught;—it’s to make you well, you know.