Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 17.djvu/322

316 you pinion down his arms, that he may do no mischief.

D. O I am sick, sick to death!

D. That is a good symptom, a very good symptom. To be sick to death (say the modern physicians) is an excellent symptom. When a patient is sensible of his pain, 'tis half a cure. Pray, sir, of what are you sick?

D. Of every thing, of every thing; I am sick of the sentiments, of the diction, of the protasis, of the epitasis, and the catastrophe. — Alas, what is become of the drama, the drama?

O W. The dram, sir? Mr. Lintot drank up all the gin just now; but I'll go fetch more presently.

D. O shameful want! scandalous omission! By all the immortals, here is no peripætia, no change of fortune in the tragedy! Z—— no change at all!

O W. Pray, good sir, be not angry; I'll fetch change.

D. Hold your peace, woman; his fit increases; good Mr. Lintot, hold him.

Mr. L. Plague on't! I am damnably afraid they are in the right of it, and he is mad in earnest. If he should be really mad, who the devil will buy the Remarks?

D. Sir, I shall order you. the cold bath tomorrow. —— Mr. Lintot, you are a sensible man; pray send for Mr. Verdier's servant, and, as you are a friend to the patient, be so kind as to stay this evening, while he is cupped on the head. The symptoms of his madness seem to be desperate; for Avicen says