"Why, I'll tell you, the liquorice is all gone, and he won't order any more." "Well, that is because you have eaten it all." "No, I haven't; I haven't eaten a bit for these five weeks: it's all been used in pharmacopey, honestly used, and he can't deny it." "Who used it?" "Why, I did: he said he wouldn't stand my eating liquorice; and I told him that I shouldn't eat any more. No more I have, but I ain't well, and I prescribes for myself. Haven't I a right to do that? Mayn't I physic myself? I am a doctor as well as he is. Who makes up all the medicine, I should like to know? who ties up the bottles and writes directions? Well, my insides are out of order, and I prescribes for myself--black draughts `omnes duas horas sumendum;' and now he says that, as the ingredients are all gone, I shan't take any more." "And pray what were the ingredients, Tom?" "Why, laxative and alterative, as suits my complaint--Extract. liquor.-- aqua pura--haustus." "And what is that?" "_Liquorice and water_, to be sure; there's nothing else I can take: I've tasted everything in the shop, from plate powder to aqua fortis, and everything goes against my stomach." "Well, Tom, it's a hard case; but perhaps the doctor will think better of it." "He'd better, or I'll set up for myself, for I won't stand it any longer; it ain't only for myself but for others that I care. Why, I've a hankering for Anny Whistle (you know her, don't you?) a pretty little girl with red lips--lives in Church Street. Well, as long as I could bring her a bit of liquorice when I went to see her all was smooth enough, and I got many a kiss when no one was nigh; but now that I can't fork out a bit as big as a marble, she's getting quite shy of me, and is always walking with Bill, the butcher's boy. I know he gives her bulls'-eyes--I seed him one day buying a ha'porth. Now, ain't that hard?" "Why, certainly, the affair becomes serious; but still, how you are to set up for yourself I don't know. You are not qualified." "Oh! ain't I? Just as much as most doctors are. There must be a beginning, and if I gives wrong medicine at first, then I'll try another, and so on, until I come to what will cure them. Soon learn, Tom." "Well, but how will you do about surgery?" "Surgery? Oh, I'll do very well; don't know much about it just now-- soon learn." "Why, would you venture to take off a man's leg, Tom? Do you know how to take up the arteries?" "Would I take off a man's leg? To be sure I would, as quick as the doctor could. As for, the arteries, why, I might puzzle a little about them; but by the time I had taken off three or four legs I should know something about them. Practice makes perfect--soon learn, Tom." "But all your first patients would die." "I don't know that. At all events I should do my best, and no man can do more, and if they did die, why, it would be by the visitation of God, wouldn't it?" "Not altogether, I'm afraid. It won't do, Tom."