Cato. I tells you again dat I is de doctor. I larn de trade under massa. Ned. Oh! well, den, give me somethin' to stop dis pain. Oh dear me! I shall die. [He tries to vomit, but can't—ugly faces.] Cato. Let me feel your pulse. Now put out your tongue. You is berry sick. Ef you don't mine, you'll die. Come out in de shed, an' I'll bleed you. [Exit all—re-enter.
Cato—Dar, now take dese pills, two in de mornin' and two at night, and ef you don't feel better, double de dose. Now, Mr. Pete, what's de matter wid you? Pete. I is got de cole chills, an' has a fever in de night. Cato. Come out, an' I'll bleed you. [Exit all—re-enter. Now take dese pills, two in de mornin' and two at night, an' ef dey don't help you, double de dose. Ah! I like to forget to feel your pulse and look at your tongue. Put out your tongue. [Feels his pulse.] Yes, I tells by de feel ob your pulse dat I is gib you de right pills. Enter Mr. Parker's Bill, L. Cato. What you come in dat door widout knockin' for? Bill. My toof ache so, I didn't tink to knock. Oh, my toof! my toof! Whar is de doctor? Cato. Here I is; don't you see me? Bill. What! you de doctor, you brack cuss! You looks like a doctor! Oh, my toof! my toof! Whar is de doctor? Cato. I tells you I is de doctor. Ef you don't believe me, ax dese men. I can pull your toof in a minnit. Bill. Well, den, pull it out. Oh, my toof! how it aches! Oh, my toof! [Cato gets the rusty turnkeys.] Cato. Now lay down on your back. Bill. What for? Cato. Dat's de way massa does. Bill. Oh, my toof! Well, den, come on. [Lies down, Cato gets astraddle of Bill's breast, puts the turnkeys on the wrong tooth, and pulls—Bill kicks, and cries out]—Oh, do stop! Oh! oh! oh! [Cato pulls the wrong tooth—Bill jumps up.
Cato. Dar, now, I tole you I could pull your toof for you.
Bill. Oh, dear me! Oh, it aches yet! Oh me! Oh, Lor-e-massy! You dun pull de wrong toof. Drat your
