FRANKLIN. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! eh! Can no one bear it for me?
GOUT. Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.
FRANKLIN. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?
GOUT. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of offenses against your own health distinctly written, and can justify every stroke inflicted on you.
FRANKLIN. Read it then.
GOUT. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some particulars.
FRANKLIN. Proceed. I am all attention.
GOUT. Do you remember how often you have promised yourself, the following morning, a walk in the grove of Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or in your own garden, and have violated your promise, alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another too warm, too windy, too moist, or what else you pleased; when in truth it was too nothing, but your insuperable love of ease?
FRANKLIN. That I confess may have happened occasionally, probably ten times in a year.
GOUT. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times.