Charles. I want it cured.
Wiggins (looking very wise). Let me see. Mars in the seventh heaven, and Jupiter in an eclipse, Venus in a brown study, and Mercury in the blues. Young man, the stars tell me you can be cured.
Charles. Much obliged to the stars. How?
Wiggins (speaking very quick, as though repeating an old story). By a plentiful application of “The Great Elixir,” which will cure coughs, colds, burns, bruises, consumption, fits, fevers, earache, heartache, headache, toothache, corns, bunions, etc., etc. Whose virtues are known and appreciated from one end of the continent to the other. Prepared under the special directions of the stars, and sold by all respectable druggists at the low price of one dollar a bottle.
Charles (aside). Just as I thought, an ignorant quack. (Aloud.) I will procure a bottle, and give it a fair trial. (Aside.) I’d sooner take poison than his infernal stuff. (Exit, L.)
Wiggins. It is thus that science blesses her devotees with the glow of success. (Looking at watch.) 10 o’clock! We must prepare for the patients. Here, Dennis (Enter Dennis, L.), prepare the paraphernalia.
Dennis (puzzled). The what is it?
Wiggins. Prepare the paraphernalia.
Dennis. Yis, sir, directly (going, L.).