DOCTOR. Yes. When I've earned it. Put it in your pocket, Mr. Hobson. I hae na finished with ye yet. HOBSON. I thought you had. (_Sits again_.) DOCTOR (_up to_ HOBSON, R.). Do ye ken that ye're defying me? Ye'll die fighting, will ye? Aye, it's a gay, high-sounding sentiment, ma mannie, but ye'll no dae it, do ye hear? Ye'll no slip from me now. I've got ma grip on ye. Ye'll die sober, and ye'll live the longest time ye can before ye die. Have ye a wife, Mr. Hobson? (HOBSON _points upwards_.) In bed? HOBSON. Higher than that. DOCTOR. It's a pity. A man like you should keep a wife handy. HOBSON. I'm not so partial to women. DOCTOR. Women are a necessity, sir. Have ye no female relative that can manage ye? HOBSON. Manage? DOCTOR. Keep her thumb firm on ye? HOBSON. I've got three daughters, Doctor MacFarlane, and they tried to keep their thumbs on me. DOCTOR. Well? Where are they? HOBSON. Married--and queerly married. DOCTOR. You drove them to it. HOBSON. They all grew uppish. Maggie worst of all. DOCTOR. Maggie? Then I'll tell ye what ye'll do, Mr. Hobson. You will get Maggie back. At any price. At all costs to your pride, as your medical man I order you to get Maggie back. (_Movement from_ HOBSON.) I don't know Maggie, but I prescribe her, and--damn ye, sir, are ye going to defy me again? HOBSON. I tell you I won't have it. DOCTOR. You'll have to have it. You're a dunderheaded lump of obstinacy, but I've taken a fancy to ye and I decline to let ye kill yeself. HOBSON. I've escaped from the thraldom of women once, and-- DOCTOR. And a pretty mess you've made of your liberty. Now this Maggie ye mention--if ye'll tell me where she's to be found, I'll just step round and have a crack with her maself, for I've gone beyond the sparing of a bit of trouble over ye. HOBSON. You'll waste your time. DOCTOR. I'll cure you, Mr. Hobson. (_Crosses to_ C. _and turns_.) HOBSON. She won't come back. DOCTOR. Oh. Now that's a possibility. If she's a sensible body I concur with your opinion she'll no come back, but women are a soft-hearted race and she'll maybe take pity on ye after all. HOBSON. I want no pity. DOCTOR. If she's the woman that I take her for ye'll get no pity. Ye'll get discipline. (HOBSON _rises and tries to speak_.) Don't interrupt me, sir. I'm talking. HOBSON. I've noticed it. (_Sits_.) DOCTOR. You asked me for a cure, and Maggie's the name of the cure you need. Maggie, sir, do you hear? Maggie! (_Enter_ MAGGIE L., _in outdoor clothes_.) MAGGIE. What about me? DOCTOR (_staggered, then_). Are you Maggie? MAGGIE. I'm Maggie. DOCTOR. Ye'll do. HOBSON (_getting his breath_). What are you doing under my roof? MAGGIE. I've come because I was fetched. (_Coming_ C.) HOBSON. Who fetched you? MAGGIE. Tubby Wadlow. HOBSON (_rising_). Tubby can quit my shop this minute. DOCTOR (_putting him back_). Sit down, Mr. Hobson. MAGGIE. He said you're dangerously ill.