I require diseases of importance, such as good
non-intermittent fevers with delirium, good scarlet-fevers, good plagues,
good confirmed dropsies, good pleurisies with inflammations of the
lungs. These are what I like, what I triumph in, and I wish, Sir, that
you had all those diseases combined, that you had been given up,
despaired of by all the doctors, and at the point of death, so that I
might have the pleasure of showing you the excellency of my remedies,
and the desire I have of doing you service!
ARG. I am greatly obliged to you, Sir, for the kind intentions you
have towards me.
TOI. Let me feel your pulse. Come, come, beat properly, please. Ah! I
will soon make you beat as you should. This pulse is trifling with me;
I see that it does not know me yet. Who is your doctor?
ARG. Mr. Purgon.
TOI. That man is not noted in my books among the great doctors. What
does he say you are ill of?
ARG. He says it is the liver, and others say it is the spleen.
TOI. They are a pack of ignorant blockheads; you are suffering from
the lungs.
ARG. The lungs?
TOI. Yes; what do you feel?
ARG. From time to time great pains in my head.
TOI. Just so; the lungs.
ARG. At times it seems as if I had a mist before my eyes.
TOI. The lungs.
ARG: I feel sick now and then.
TOI. The lungs.
ARG. And I feel sometimes a weariness in all my limbs.
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