_Enter DR. GAINES, L._ _Dr. G._ Well, Cato, have you made the batch of ointment that I ordered? _Cato._ Yes, massa; I dun made de intment, an’ now I is making the bread pills. De tater pills is up on the top shelf. _Dr. G._ I am going out to see some patients. If any gentlemen call, tell them I shall be in this afternoon. If any servants come, you attend to them. I expect two of Mr. Campbell’s boys over. You see to them. Feel their pulse, look at their tongues, bleed them, and give them each a dose of calomel. Tell them to drink no cold water, and to take nothing but water gruel. _Cato._ Yes, massa; I’ll tend to ’em. [_Exit DR. GAINES, L._ _Cato._ I allers knowed I was a doctor, an’ now de ole boss has put me at it, I muss change my coat. Ef any niggers comes in, I wants to look suspectable. Dis jacket don’t suit a doctor; I’ll change it. [_Exit CATO—immediately returning in a long coat._ Ah! now I looks like a doctor. Now I can bleed, pull teef, or cut off a leg. Oh! well, well, ef I ain’t put de pill stuff an’ de intment stuff togedder. By golly, dat ole cuss will be mad when he finds it out, won’t he? Nebber mind, I’ll make it up in pills, and when de flour is on dem, he won’t know what’s in ’em; an’ I’ll make some new intment. Ah! yonder comes Mr. Campbell’s Pete an’ Ned; dems de ones massa sed was comin’. I’ll see ef I looks right. [_Goes to the looking-glass and views himself._] I em some punkins, ain’t I? [_Knock at the door._] Come in. _Enter PETE and NED, R._ _Pete._ Whar is de doctor? _Cato._ Here I is; don’t you see me? _Pete._ But whar is de ole boss? _Cato._ Dat’s none you business. I dun tole you dat I is de doctor, an dat’s enuff. _Ned._ Oh! do tell us whar de doctor is. I is almos dead. Oh me! oh dear me! I is so sick. [_Horrible faces._] _Pete._ Yes, do tell us; we don’t want to stan here foolin’. _Cato._ I tells you again dat I is de doctor. I larn de trade under massa. _Ned._ Oh! well, den, give me somethin’ to stop dis pain. Oh dear me! I shall die. [_He tries to vomit, but can’t—ugly faces._] _Cato._ Let me feel your pulse. Now put out your tongue. You is berry sick. Ef you don’t mine, you’ll die. Come out in de shed, an’ I’ll bleed you. [_Exit all—re-enter._ _Cato._ Dar, now take dese pills, two in de mornin’ and two at night, and ef you don’t feel better, double de dose. Now, Mr. Pete, what’s de matter wid you? _Pete._ I is got de cole chills, an’ has a fever in de night. _Cato._ Come out, an’ I’ll bleed you. [_Exit all—re-enter._ Now take dese pills, two in de mornin’ and two at night, an’ ef dey don’t help you, double de dose. Ah! I like to forget to feel your pulse and look at your tongue. Put out your tongue. [_Feels his pulse._] Yes, I tells by de feel ob your pulse dat I is gib you de right pills.