Scene.—A sick room.—Mr Cadaverous in an easy chair asleep, supported by cushions, wrapped up in his dressing-gown, a nightcap on his head.—A small table with phials, gallipots, &c.—Mrs Jellybags seated on a chair close to the table.

Mrs Jellybags (looks at Mr Cadaverous, and then comes forward). He sleeps yet—the odious old miser! Mercy on me, how I do hate him,—almost as much as he loves his money! Well, there's one comfort, he cannot take his money-bags with him, and the doctor says that he cannot last much longer. Ten years have I been his slave—ten years have I been engaged to be married to Sergeant-Major O'Callaghan of the Blues—ten years has he kept me waiting at the porch of Hymen,—and what thousands of couples have I seen enter during the time! Oh dear! it's enough to drive a widow mad. I think I have managed it;—he has now quarrelled with all his relations, and Doctor Gumarabic intends this day to suggest the propriety of his making his last will and testament. [Mr Cadaverous, still asleep, coughs.] He is waking. (Looks at him.) No, he is not. Well, then, I shall wake him, and give him a draught, for, after such a comfortable sleep as he is now in, he might last a whole week longer. (Goes up to Mr Cadaverous, and shakes him).

Mr Cad. (starting up.) Ugh! ugh! ugh! (coughs violently.) Oh! Mrs Jellybags, I'm so ill. Ugh! ugh!

Jel. My dear, dear sir! now don't say so. I was in hopes, after such a nice long sleep you would have found yourself so much better.

Cad. Long sleep! oh dear!—I'm sure I've not slept ten minutes.

Jel. (Aside.) I know that. (Aloud.) Indeed, my dear sir, you are mistaken. Time passes very quick when we are fast asleep. I have been watching you and keeping the flies off. But you must now take your draught, my dear sir, and your pill first.

Cad. What! more pills and more draughts! Why, there's no end to them.

Jel. Yes, there will be, by-and-bye, my dear sir. You know Doctor Gumarabic has ordered you to take one pill and one draught every half-hour.

Cad. And so I have—never missed one for the last six weeks—woke up for them day and night. I feel very weak—very weak, indeed! Don't you think I might eat something, my dear Mrs Jellybags?

Jel. Eat, my dear Mr Cadaverous!—how can you ask me, when you know that Doctor Gumarabic says that it would be the death of you?

Cad. Only the wing of a chicken,—or a bit of the breast——

Jel. Impossible!

Cad. A bit of dry toast, then; anything, my dear Mrs Jellybags. I've such a gnawing. Ugh! ugh!

Jel. My dear sir, you would die if you swallowed the least thing that's nourishing.

Cad. I'm sure I shall die if I do not. Well, then, a little soup—I should like that very much indeed.

Jel. Soup! it would be poison, my dear sir! No, no. You must take your pill and your draught.

Cad. Oh dear! oh dear!—Forty-eight pills and forty-eight draughts every twenty-four hours!—not a wink of sleep day or night.

Jel. (soothingly.) But it's to make you well, you know, my dear Mr Cadaverous. Come, now. (Hands him a pill and some water in a tumbler.)

Cad. The last one is hardly down yet;—I feel it sticking half-way. Ugh! ugh!

Jel. Then wash them both down at once. Come, now, 'tis to make you well, you know.

[Cadaverous takes the pill with a wry face, and coughs it up again.

Cad. Ugh! ugh! There—it's up again. Oh dear! oh dear!

Jel. You must take it, my dear sir. Come, now, try again.

Cad. (coughing.) My cough is so bad. (Takes the pill.) Oh, my poor head! Now I'll lie down again.

Jel. Not yet, my dear Mr Cadaverous. You must take your draught;—it's to make you well, you know.

Cad. What! another draught? I'm sure I must have twenty draughts in my inside, besides two boxes of pills!

Jel. Come, now—it will be down in a minute.

[Cadaverous takes the wine-glass in his hand, and looks at it with abhorrence.

Jel. Come, now.

[Cadaverous swallows the draught, and feels very sick, puts his handkerchief to his mouth, and, after a time, sinks back in the chair quite exhausted, and shuts his eyes.

Jel. (Aside.) I wish the doctor would come. It's high time that he made his will.

Cad. (drawing up his leg.) Oh! oh! oh!

Jel. What's the matter, my dear Mr Cadaverous?

Cad. Oh! such pain!—oh! rub it, Mrs Jellybags.

Jel. What, here, my dear sir? (Rubs his knee.)

Cad. No, no!—not there!—Oh, my hip!

Jel. What, here? (Rubs his hip.)

Cad. No, no!—higher—higher! Oh, my side!

Jel. What, here? (Rubs his side.)

Cad. No!—lower!

Jel. Here? (Rubbing.)

Cad. No!—higher!—Oh, my chest!—my stomach! Oh dear!—oh dear!

Jel. Are you better now, my dear sir?

Cad. Oh dear! oh! I do believe that I shall die! I've been a very wicked man, I'm afraid.

Jel. Don't say so, Mr Cadaverous. Every one but your nephews and nieces say that you are the best man in the world.

Cad. Do they? I was afraid that I had not been quite so good as they think I am.

Jel. I'd like to hear any one say to the contrary. I'd tear their eyes out,—that I would.

Cad. You are a good woman, Mrs Jellybags; and I shall not forget you in my will.

Jel. Don't mention wills, my dear sir. You make me so miserable. (Puts her handkerchief to her eyes.)

Cad. Don't cry, Mrs Jellybags. I wo'n't talk any more about it. (Sinks back exhausted.)

Jel. (wiping her eyes.) Here comes Doctor Gumarabic.

Enter Gumarabic.

Gum. Good morning, Mistress Jellybags. Well, how's our patient?—better?—heh? [Mrs Jellybags shakes her head.

Gum. No: well, that's odd. (Goes up to Mr Cadaverous.) Not better, my dear sir?—don't you feel stronger?

Cad. (faintly). Oh, no!

Gum. Not stronger! Let us feel the pulse. [Mrs Jellybags hands a chair, and Gumarabic sits down, pulls out his watch, and counts.] Intermittent—135—well, now—that's very odd! Mrs Jellybags, have you adhered punctually to my prescriptions?

Jel. Oh yes, sir, exactly.

Gum. He has eaten nothing?

Cad. Nothing at all.

Gum. And don't feel stronger? Odd—very odd! Pray, has he had anything in the way of drink? Come, Mrs Jellybags, no disguise,—tell the truth;—no soup—warm jelly—heh?

Jel. No, sir; upon my word, he has had nothing.

Gum. Humph!—and yet feels no stronger? Well, that's odd!—Has he taken the pill every half-hour?

Jel. Yes, sir, regularly.

Gum. And feels no better! Are you sure that he has had his draught with his pill?

Jel. Every time, sir.

Gum. And feels no better! Well, that's odd!—very odd, indeed! (Rises and comes forward with Mrs Jellybags.) We must throw in some more draughts, Mrs Jellybags; there is no time to be lost.

Jel. I'm afraid he's much worse, sir.

Gum. I am not at all afraid of it, Mrs Jellybags,—I am sure of it;—it's very odd,—but the fact is, that all the physic in the world won't save him; but still he must take it,—because—physic was made to be taken.

Jel. Very true, sir. (Whispers to Gumarabic.)

Gum. Ah! yes;—very proper. (Going to Mr Cadaverous.) My dear sir, I have done my best; nevertheless, you are ill,—very ill,—which is odd,—very odd! It is not pleasant,—I may say, very unpleasant,—but if you have any little worldly affairs to settle,—will to make,—or a codicil to add, in favour of your good nurse, your doctor, or so on,—it might be as well to send for your lawyer;—there is no saying, but, during my practice, I have sometimes found that people die. After all the physic you have taken, it certainly is odd—very odd—very odd, indeed;—but you might die to-morrow.

Cad. Oh dear!—I'm very ill.

Jel. (sobbing.) Oh dear! oh dear!—he's very ill.

Gum. (comes forward, shrugging up his shoulders.) Yes; he is ill—very ill;—to-morrow, dead as mutton! At all events he has not died for WANT of physic. We must throw in some more draughts immediately;—no time to be lost. Life is short,—but my bill will be long—very long! [Exit as scene closes.