Mr. F. (mournfully). No, it’s too late—too late. I would like to have lived longer, but I must submit to my fate.
(Enter Dr. Gibbs, L.)
Dr. Gibbs (cheerily). Well, my friend, what’s the matter with you?
Mr. F. (tragically). Poison!
Dr. G. (surprised). What! Got tired of living, hey?
Mr. F. (wearily). Tell him about it, Susan.
Mrs. F. It was a terrible mistake, doctor. He intended to take some cough drops, but, instead, took some laudanum.
Dr. G. (feeling his pulse). How do you feel?
Mr. F. I feel cold chills passing over me, and it seems us if a thousand needles were pricking my flesh; and I have got a terrible headache.
Dr. G. But those are not the symptoms of poison. How long is it since you took it?