Christmas Mummers at Rugby. 191
Enter Moll Finney. Moll. St. George, St. George, what hast thou done !
Thou hast surely ruined thyself By killing my only son ! ^ Is there a doctor to be found, To cure this man lies bleeding on the ground ?
Kneels^ and hides her head in her hand.
Enter Doctor. D. In conies I, the Doctor Brown,
Cleverest doctor in the town.
O yes, there is a doctor to be found
To cure this man lying on the ground. Moll. What's your fee ?
D. Ten guineas is my fee.
But five I will take of thee. Moll. Thank'ye, doctor : what can you cure ?
D. Hipsey, pipsey, palsy, gout.
Pains within and pains without.
Bring me an old man that has been
In his grave threescore years and ten,
' Five pounds for a doctor !
No doctor to be found. Ten pounds for a doctor !
No doctor to be found. Twenty pounds for a doctor !
No doctor to be found.
Enter Doctor. D. Oh yes, Oh yes, there is
A noble doctor to be found, To cure this man
Lying on the ground. What's your price ?
Seven pound. What can you cure ? Hipsy, pipsy, palsy, gout, If the devil's in I'll quickly fetch him out. Here Jack, take a bit of my nif-nack up your sniff-snack. Rise and fight again.
