Punch (wriggling his body as he lies, says). Oh, dear! so sick! so sick!
Doctor (feeling Punch’s pulse). Why, Mr. Punch, you are all right; forty-five to the minute.
Punch. Oh, no! I’m dead! I’m killed!
Doctor. That won’t do, Mr. Punch; dead men don’t talk.
Punch (jumping up with a lively gait). Ah! that is so.
Doctor. Then, Mr. Punch, since you are not dead, pay me my fee and let me go.
Punch. Your fee?
Doctor. Yes, my fee.
Punch. How much?
Doctor. Five dollars.