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the lower sort of people are very tenacious of respect; and though they are contented to give this gratis to persons of quality, yet they never confer it on those of their own order without taking care to be well paid for their pains.
In which the surgeon makes his second appearance.
BEFORE we proceed any further, that the reader may not be mistaken in imagining the landlady knew more than she did, nor surprised that she knew so much, it may be necessary to inform him that the lieutenant had acquainted her that the name of Sophia had been the occasion of the quarrel ; and as for the rest of her knowledge, the sagacious readerwill observe how she came by it in the preceding scene. Great curiosity was indeed mixed with her virtues; and she never willingly suffered any one to depart from her house, without inquiring as much as possible into their names, families, and fortunes. She was no sooner gone than Jones, instead of animadverting on her behaviour, reflected that he was in the same bed which he was informed had held his dear Sophia. This occasioned a thousand fond and tender thoughts, which we would dwell longer upon, did we not consider that such kind of lovers will make a very inconsiderable part of our readers. In this situation the surgeon found him, when he came to dress his wound. The doctor perceiving, upon examination, that his pulse was disordered, and hearing that he had not slept, declared that he was in great danger; for he apprehended a fever was coming on, which he would have prevented by bleeding, but Jones would not submit, declaring he would lose no more blood; “and, doctor,' says he, “if you will be so kind only to dress my * head, I have no doubt of being well in a day or * two.’ “I wish,' answered the surgeon, “I could assure “your being well in a month or two. Well indeed! “No, no, people are not so soon well of such contu“sions; but, sir, I am not at this time of day to be ‘instructed in my operations by a patient, and I in“sist on making a revulsion before I dress you.’ Jones persisted obstinately in his refusal, and the doctor at last yielded; telling him at the same time that he would not be answerable for the ill consequence, and hoped he would do him the justice to acknowledge that he had given him a contrary advice; which the patient promised he would. The doctor retired into the kitchen, where, addressing himself to the landlady, he complained bitterly of the undutiful behaviour of his patient, who would not be blooded, though he was in a fever. “It is an eating fever then,’ says the landlady; ‘ for he hath devoured two swingeing buttered toasts “ this morning for breakfast.’ “Very likely,’ says the doctor: “I have known “ people eat in a fever; and it is very easily ac‘ counted for ; because the acidity occasioned by • the febrile matter may stimulate the nerves of the “ diaphragm, and thereby occasion a craving which ‘ will not be easily distinguishable from a natural * appetite; but the aliment will not be concreted, * nor assimilated into chyle, and so will corrode the ‘ vascular orifices, and thus will aggravate the fe“brific symptoms. Indeed, I think the gentleman ‘in a very dangerous way, and, if he is not blooded, * I am afraid will die.’ “Every man must die some time or other,’ answered the good woman; ‘it is no business of mine. * I hope, doctor, you would not have me hold him • while you bleed him.—But, harkee, a word in “ your ear; I would advise you, before you proceed “too far, to take care who is to be your paymaster.’ • Paymasters' said the doctor, staring; ‘why, I've ‘ a gentleman under my hands, have I not o' “I imagined so as well as you,' said the landlady; ‘ but as my first husband used to say, every thing is * not what it looks to be. He is an arrant scrub, I ‘ assure you. However, take no notice that I men‘tioned any thing to you of the matter; but I think “ people in business oft always to let one another * know such things.’ “And have I suffered such a fellow as this,’ cries the doctor, in a passion, “to instruct me Shall I * hear my practice insulted by one who will not pay * me ! I am glad I have made this discovery in time. * I will see now whether he will be blooded or no.” He then immediately went up stairs, and flinging open the door of the chamber with much violence, awaked poor-Jones from a very sound nap, into which he was fallen, and, what was still worse, from a delicious dream concerning Sophia. * Will you be blooded or no 2' cries the doctor, in a rage. “I have told you my resolution already,’ answered Jones, ‘ and I wish with all my heart you * had taken my answer; for you have awaked me ‘ out of the sweetest sleep which I ever had in my * life.” ‘Ay, ay,’ cries the doctor; “many a man hath ‘ dozed away his life. Sleep is not always good, no ‘more than food; but remember, I demand of you * for the last time, will you be blooded ?'—‘ I answer “you for the last time,’ said Jones, ‘ I will not.’— “Then I wash my hands of you,' cries the doctor; .* and I desire you to pay me for the trouble I have “had already. Two journeys at 5s, each, two dress‘ings at 5s. more, and half a crown for phlebo“tomy.”—“I hope,” said Jones, “ you don't intend “to leave me in this condition.’—‘Indeed but I ‘shall,” said the other.—“Then,' said Jones, ‘you ‘ have used me rascally, and I will not pay you a “farthing.”—“Very well, cries the doctor; “the first ‘loss is the best. What a pox did my landlady ‘mean by sending for me to such vagabonds !” At which words he flung out of the room, and his patient turning himself about soon recovered his sleep; but his dream was unfortunately gone.
= CHAP. IV. > In which is introduced one of the pleasantest barbers
that was ever recorded in history, the barber of Bagdad, or he in Don 2uixote, not excepted.
THE clock had now struck five, when Jones awaked from a nap of seven hours, so much refreshed, and in such perfect health and spirits, that he resolved to get up and dress himself; for which purpose he unlocked his portmanteau, and took out clean linen, and a suit of clothes; but first he slipt on a frock, and went down into the kitchen to bespeak something that might pacify certain tumults he found rising within his stomach. Meeting the landlady, he accosted her with great civility, and asked, “What he could have for dinner?”—“For dinners’ says she “it is an odd time of ‘ day to think about dinner. There is nothing drest * in the house, and the fire is almost out.”—“Well * but,’ says he, “I must have something to eat, and “it is almost indifferent to me what; for, to tell you ‘the truth, I was never more hungry in my life."— “Then,’ says she, “I believe there is a piece of cold “buttock and carrot, which will fit you.”—“Nothing ‘better,' answered Jones; ‘ but I should be obliged ‘to you, if you would let it be fried.’ To which the landlady consented, and said smiling, “She was “glad to see him so well recovered;’ for the sweetmess of our hero's temper was almost irresistible; besides, she was really no ill-humoured woman at the bottom; but she loved money so much, that she hated every thing which had the semblance of poverty. Jönes now returned in order to dress himself, while his dinner was preparing, and was, according to his orders, attended by the barber. This barber, who went by the name of Little Benjamin, was a fellow of great oddity and humour, which had frequently led him into small inconveniencies, such as slaps in the face, kicks in the breech, broken bones, &c. For every one doth not understand a jest; and those who do are often displeased with being themselves the subjects of it. This vice was, however, incurable in him; and though he had often smårted for it, yet if ever he conceived a joke, he was certain to be delivered of it, without the least respect of persons, time, or place. He had a great many other particularities in his character, which I shall not mention, as the reader will himself very easily perceive them, on his farther acquaintance with this extraordinary person. Jones being impatient to be drest, for a reason which may easily be imagined, thought the shaver was very tedious in preparing his suds, and begged him to make haste; to which the other answered with much gravity, for he never discomposed his muscles on any account, ofestina lent?, is a proverb " which I learnt long before I ever touched a razor.” —‘I find, friend; you are a scholar,’ replied Jones. * A poor one,' said the barber, “non omnia possumus “omnes.’—‘Again!’ said Jones; ‘I fancy you are * good at capping verses.’ — ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the barber, “non tanto me dignor honore” And then proceeding to his operation, “sir,’ said he, “since I * have have dealt in suds, I could never discover * more than two reasons for shaving; the one is to * get a beard, and the other to get rid of one. I con‘jecture, sir, it may not be long since you shaved, * from the former of these motives. Upon my word, WOL, WI. 2 F