"You know nothing about it! I could kill quite as many people as you, if I chose it; but I don't choose."
Dr. Dosewell (shrugging up his shoulders).—"Sir! 'tis no use arguing; the thing's against common sense. In short, it is my firm belief that it is—is a complete—"
Dr. Morgan.—"A complete what?"
Dr. Dosewell (provoked to the utmost).—"Humbug!"
Dr. Morgan.—"Humbug! Cott in heaven! You old—"
Dr. Dosewell.—"Old what, sir?"
Dr. Morgan (at home in a series of alliteral vowels, which none but a Cymbrian could have uttered without gasping).—"Old allopathical anthropophagite!"
Dr. Dosewell (starting up, seizing by the back the chair on which he had sat, and bringing it down violently on its four legs).—"Sir!"
Dr. Morgan, (imitating the action with his own chair).—"Sir!"