George M. Baker

“ Plumpface. What's the matter now?
Dr. A. Your case has taken a serious turn. You are going to get rid of that cough. It's going to your head. You will be mad.
Plumpface. Mad? You don't say so! What a horrible idea! I'm afraid you're right. I haven't coughed for three minutes. O, doctor, is there no hope?
Dr. A. Don't stop to talk. Get home at once. (Pushes him out of door, L.) Run for your life. How he goes! The exercise will do his lungs good; but his head, poor fellow! He's got the duchess fever.
Enter Oldbuck, L.
Oldbuck. ”

“ Not a patient—no, I'm wrong—there's his free patient, Maggie, "The Duchess of Dublin," as Lucy and I facetiously call her. A free patient! If we could only contrive to get one of the high and mighty snobs of the village into his clutches, we'd physic him until the whole population flocked to his office. (Knock, L.) Come in. (Enter Lucy Linden, L.) Ah, Lucy, come in. How d'ye do? (Shake hands.)
Lucy. Where's Adam?
Friskey. The first of men is at his breakfast, replenishing his exhausted system before renewing the toil of practice.
Lucy. You're too bad, Frank. ”

“ Maggie. Soon as he's kilt or cured the sick folks at Squire Croony's.
Oldbuck. Has he any patients in the house?
Maggie. Yis, one. (Aside.) Sure, I'm his patient; that's no lie.
Oldbuck. Ah! Male or female?
Maggie. Well, from my sowl, ye's a mighty inquisitive ould chap. It's a famale.
Oldbuck (aside) . Ah, it's true then. Sh! Come here, my good girl. (Maggie approaches him, and hits his foot.) O, my foot! You clumsy—
Maggie (poking his foot with the cane) . Does it burn?
Oldbuck. O! O! O! Will you be quiet?
Maggie. If ye'll kape a civil tongue. ”

“ We are all interested in your success, and, to insure that success, Lucy and I put our heads together.
Dr. A. And your arms about each other—yes.
Frank. And concocted a scheme which has succeeded admirably. (Oldbuck, Plumpface, Sharpset, and Dennis look at each other, then stealthily approach, C.)
Maggie (flourishing broom) . Shoo! Away wid ye's! Have ye's no manners, ye hathens?
Frank. You have your hands full of patients now, from the fact that it has leaked out that you had under your charge a high-born lady. You know that one good customer will attract others. ”

“ Pills and powders! pestle and mortar! am I awake? Well, it's my usual luck. Day by day I've seen my stock of provisions sensibly decrease. I have this morning devoured the last fishball that could be manufactured from the slender stock of codfish and potatoes. It has vanished, and so has my love, with the friend of my bosom. There's nothing left for me now but to make a few slender meals of my sugar-coated pills, fricassee the canary, and then slowly but surely starve. ”

“ He's very mad. Why don't his friends take care of him. It's dangerous [Pg 261] to let a man run round with such horrid ideas as are rambling through his brain. The fat girl, the living skeleton, the bald-headed accountant, and "The Duchess of Dublin." 'Pon my word, the idea of my having under my charge a duchess! O, it's absurd. The man's crazy; he must be looked after; I'll follow him (takes hat) , and see that he does no damage. (Goes to door, L.)
Enters, suddenly, Miss Abigail Alllove, with a large book under her arm. ”

“ Dr. A. The duchess? Ah, yes, poor man, lunacy always takes high flights. Ah, who is the duchess?
Sharpset. Jes' so. Doctor, do you see anything of a verdant hue in this optic? (Finger on left eye.) It's no use. "The Duchess of Dublin" is in this house; is under your charge. Now do the handsome thing. I'll put [Pg 260] her up as an extra attraction, charge double price, and divide profits. There's an offer.
Dr. A. By doubling your price on "The Duchess of Dublin"? Now, you must excuse the question, but who is "The Duchess of Dublin"? and what have I to do with "The Duchess of Dublin"?
Sharpset. ”

“ Hallo, Maggie! Where's the doctor?
Maggie. Sure it's at his brikfast he is. Can't you lit him have a little pace for his sowl? What wid bein' up all night, and runnin' to sick folks all day, it's little rist he finds onyhow.
Friskey. That's right, Maggie. Keep up a show of business if there is none. But I'm in the secret.
Maggie. Sacret, is it? Sure there's none.
Friskey. Ah, we know, Maggie, that our friend the doctor has yet to get his first patient.
Maggie. Indade you're wrong there, Masther Frank. Haven't I been under his charge, and don't I know the skilful arts uv him? ”

“ Plumpface. He's a swindle. (Cough.) He does me no good. (Cough.) I'm going to try the new one. (Cough.)
Oldbuck. Humbug! Keep your money. There's nothing the matter with you. You've tried twenty doctors. They bleed your pocket, and add power to that infernal cough.
Plumpface. Humbug yourself! (cough) hobbling round (cough) with that (cough) foot wrapped up. (Cough.) Stay at home and diet. (Cough.)
Maggie. Ye'll make a die of it some day, sure, wid that watchman's rattle in ye's throat.
[Pg 255]
Plumpface (to Maggie) . Here (cough) , I want to whisper to you. (Cough.) ”

“ Dennis. Presint me, docther.
Maggie (swinging her broom round her head) . Shoo! Away wid ye's! Don't you say the docther's sick? (They fall back.)
Dr. A. (rising) . Gentlemen, I am at your mercy. An hour ago I was the possessor of a noble intellect. Now, I am like the reed shaken by the blast. To whom shall I present you?
Oldbuck, Plumpface, Sharpset, Dennis. "The Duchess of Dublin."
Dr. A. "Monsieur Tonson come again." (Sinks into chair.)
Maggie. "The Duchess of Dublin." O, be aisy wid yer nonsinse. Sure there's nobody here that answers to that name at all at all.
Enter Frank, R.
Frank. ”

“ Dr. A. But I never shall have a patient. There's a dead set against me. They're determined I shall not cure or kill anybody until I kill myself with waiting.
Annie. Not so bad as that, Adam. Be patient, and wait.
Dr. A. O, humbug! My instruments are all getting [Pg 249] rusty, my pills old, my plasters cracking, and my drops drying up. Hang it, I'll go and doctor myself for amusement. (Knock, L.)
Annie. Hush! Perhaps there's a call.
Dr. A. The undertaker, perhaps, in search of a job. Come in.
Enter Dennis, L.
Dennis. ”

“ But mind, don't interfare wid his business. Don't tak his mind off the purshuit uv patients, for it's much they're wanted, ye's can belave.
[Exit, R.
Friskey. I do belave it. Now here's a man who has [Pg 244] passed a splendid examination, received his diploma, and settled down in his native village to practise medicine, but so set are the good people that they will never patronize him until age and experience have fitted him to be their medical adviser. Stuff and nonsense! While he is growing he must starve, unless some way is found to move their stubborn will. ”

“ Maggie. Troth, I don't know what ye mane.
Dennis. To a nice, respectable gurl that wouldn't mind incumbrances in the shape of nine as purty childers as iver built stone huts or made dirt pies, the darlints.
Maggie. Troth, I think ye've give nine good raisins why no smart gurl would loike to take the head uv yer establishment. She'd be loike the ould woman that lived in a shoe.
Dennis. An' ye couldn't be prevailed upon yeself to share my fortunes?
Maggie. What's that, ye loonytic? Away wid ye's. I'll have none uv yer Molly's childers distractin' my shlumbers. ”

“ Maggie. Ah, will, will! It's the blarney-stone ye've kissed, sure, in the ould counthry.
Dennis. To be sure I have, colleen. Ah, bliss the ould sod! Sorry's the day I lift it, wid my own purty [Pg 251] wife, Molly, who's been dead and gone the year, an' me wid the childers wid their bills open for food loike the little birds—
Maggie. 'Tis a widerer ye's are?
Dennis. A lone widerer, wid a tear in one eye and the other wide open tight for a purty girl to fill the sitivation made vacant by the absince of my Molly.
Maggie. Is it lonesome ye are?
Dennis. Lonesome is it? Begorra! ”

“ Maggie. Is it mysilf? Troth, I'm pickin' up lively.
Plumpface (aside) . Her? Can she be the duchess? It must be, incog. Your grace. (Cough.)
Maggie (aside) . Your what?
Plumpface. I'm delighted to (cough) meet your highness. (Cough.) When did you leave the old country? (Cough.)
Maggie. The ould counthry, is it?
Oldbuck. Here, this way. (Aside to Maggie.) Plumpface is an old fool. Don't mind him, your grace.
Maggie. Will, 'pon my sowl, if here isn't a couple of the quarest ould chaps I iver met. O, here's the docther. (Gives Oldbuck his cane.)
Enter Dr. Aconite, L. Exit Maggie, R.
Dr. ”

“ Maggie. Sure it's the most mysterious mystery that iver took place. It bates the deluge, sure. (Knock at door, L.)
Lucy. Shall I open the door, doctor?
Dr. A. No—yes—don't mind me. I'm not myself. I'm out of my head. I'm mad, mad, mad! (Sinks into chair.)
Annie. O, brother! isn't this terrible? (Knock, L.)
Maggie. Bedad, there'll be a breakdown at that door, or I'm mistaken. (Opens door. Oldbuck, Sharpset, [Pg 271] Plumpface, and Dennis tumble in on floor.) Troth, is that a pelite way to inter the house? (They pick themselves up.) ”

“ And didn't the blissid crayther, wid the bountiful heart in 'im, charge niver a cint for it, or sthop it out uv the wages uv a poor girl, as many a hathen would do, bad luck to 'em. To be sure he did; and, by that same token, it's Maggie Mullen would run the wide worrld over for the sakes uv [Pg 243] him. Och, but it's little docthoring he has onyhow, and perhaps I did him a sarvice giving him the practice loike. Will, if the sick folks only knew how handy he is, there'd be little rist for the sole uv my fut answering the bill.
Enter Friskey, L.
Friskey. ”