Cad. What! another draught? I’m sure I must have twenty draughts in my inside, besides two boxes of pills!
Jel. Come, now—it will be down in a minute.
(Cadaverous takes the wine-glass in his hand, and looks at it with abhorrence.)
Jel. Come, now.
(Cadaverous swallows the draught, and feels very sick, puts his handkerchief to his mouth, and, after a time, sinks back in the chair quite exhausted, and shuts his eyes.)
Jel. (aside.) I wish the doctor would come. It’s high time that he made his will.
Cad. (drawing up his leg.) Oh! oh! oh!
Jel. What’s the matter, my dear Mr Cadaverous.
Cad. Oh! such pain!—oh! rub it, Mrs Jellybags.
Jel. What, here, my dear sir? (Rubs his knee.)