He called his cook-maid Betty to bespeak his dinner. Betty told him "That she begged his pardon, she could not dress dinner till she knew what he intended to do with his will." "Why, Betty," quoth John, "thou art not run mad, art thou? My will at present is to have dinner." "That may be," quoth Betty, "but my conscience won't allow me to dress it till I know whether you intend to do righteous things by your heir." "I am sorry for that, Betty," quoth John; "I must find somebody else, then." Then he called John the barber. "Before I begin," quoth John, "I hope your honour won't be offended if I ask you whether you intend to alter your will? If you won't give me a positive answer your beard may grow down to your middle for me." "'Igad, so it shall," quoth Bull, "for I will never trust my throat in such a mad fellow's hands. Where's Dick the butler?" "Look ye," quoth Dick, "I am very willing to serve you in my calling, d'you see, but there are strange reports, and plain-dealing is best, d'ye see. I must be satisfied if you intend to leave all to your nephew and if Nic. Frog is still your executor, d'ye see. If you will not satisfy me as to these points you may drink with the ducks." "And so I will," quoth John, "rather than keep a butler that loves my heir better than myself." Hob the shoemaker, and Pricket the tailor, told him they would most willingly serve him in their several stations if he would promise them never to talk with Lewis Baboon, and let Nicholas Frog, linen-draper, manage his concerns; that they could neither make shoes nor clothes to any that were not in good correspondence with their worthy friend Nicholas. JOHN BULL.--Call Andrew, my journeyman. How goes affairs, Andrew? I hope the devil has not taken possession of thy body too. ANDREW.--No, sir; I only desire to know what you would do if you were dead? JOHN BULL.--Just as other dead folks do, Andrew. [Aside.] This is amazing! ANDREW.--I mean if your nephew shall inherit your estate. JOHN BULL.--That depends upon himself. I shall do nothing to hinder him. ANDREW.--But will you make it sure? JOHN BULL.--Thou meanest that I should put him in possession, for I can make it no surer without that. He has all the law can give him. ANDREW.--Indeed, possession, as you say, would make it much surer. They say it is eleven points of the law. John began now to think that they were all enchanted. He inquired about the age of the moon, if Nic. had not given them some intoxicating potion, or if old Mother Jenisa was still alive? "No, o' my faith," quoth Harry, "I believe there is no potion in the case but a little aurum potabile. You will have more of this by-and-by." He had scarce spoken the word when another friend of John's accosted him after the following manner:-- "Since those worthy persons, who are as much concerned for your safety as I am, have employed me as their orator, I desire to know whether you will have it by way of syllogism, enthymem, dilemma, or sorites?"