DR. CONY—Oh, yes, you did, I'll warrant you. There must have been many merry nights as the bottle passed around the table. (With evident gusto) Maybe there was a rousing song—"When Leeks Are Young in Springtime"—or something like that, and I wouldn't be surprised if now and again there was some fluffy little miss to sing soprano to your bass. Youth! Youth! To be young, a rabbit and stewed. (Quoting reminiscently) "A leaf of lettuce underneath the bough." After all, salad days are the best days. I never meet an old rabbit with gout but I take off my hat and say, "Sir, you have lived."
COTTONTAIL (wildly)—It's not true. I never lived like that. I never took a drink in my life. You can ask anybody. Nobody ever saw me take a drink.
DR. CONY—That's bad. You solitary drunkards are always the hardest to handle. But you've simply got to stop. You must quit drinking or die, that's all there is to it.
COTTONTAIL—This is terrible. It must have been that poisoned sword. I tell you, I was just sitting here quietly, reading The Evening Post—
DR. CONY—My dear sir, please rid yourself right away of the alcoholic's habit of confusing cause and effect. He thinks he's sick because green elephants are walking on him, while, as a matter of fact, green elephants are walking on him because he's sick. It's terribly simple, when you stop to figure it out.
COTTONTAIL—You don't think I saw any pink monster come through the ceiling?
DR. CONY—On the contrary, I'm sure you did. But the point is, you mustn't see him again, and the only way to avoid seeing him is to quit drinking. Your fun's done. Now, be a good patient and tell me you'll stop drinking—
COTTONTAIL—I tell you I never had any fun. I never had any fun—
DR. CONY—Well, strictly speaking, it isn't the fun that hurts you, it's the rum. You must stop, even if you hate the stuff. Do you understand?
COTTONTAIL (hysterical)—I can't stop, I can't stop; I never started, I can't stop—