184 The De7'byshire Mumtning Play of
[Enter Old Fool.)
Fool. Alas, alas, my chiefest son is slain ! What must I do to raise him up again ? Here he lies in the presence of you all. I willingly for a doctor call. A doctor, a doctor, ten pounds for a doctor ! I'll go and fetch a doctor.
Doctor. Here am I.
Fool. Are you the doctor }
Doctor. Yes ; that you may plainly see
By my art and activity. Fool. By your heart and the cap of your knee .'* Doctor. Oh, no ; you foolish blockhead. By my art and
activity. Fool. Well, what's your fee to cure this poor man } Doctor. Ten pounds is my fee ; but Jack, if thou be an
honest man, I'll only take five off thee. Fool. Tha'll be wondrous cunning if tha gets any. Doctor. Good-bye, Jack.
Fool. Here, how far have you travelled in doctrineship ? Doctor. Italy, Tytaly, High Germany, France and Spain, And over the hills and back again. [Or, instead of last line.)
And now have returned to cure the diseases of Old England again. (Or, England, Ireland, Europe and Syrup. I went into Ireland and saw such sights I never seen in my life before : Churches made of penny loaves ; Black Puddings for bell-ropes ; Little Pigs running about with a knife and fork sticking in them, crying out Who will eat me }) Fool. So far and no further } Doctor. O yes ; a great deal further.