In a few minutes, Mr Justice was led into the
parlour in his nightcap and loose morning-gown, rolling his head
from side to side, and groaning piteously all the way. -- 'Jesu!
neighbour Frogmore (exclaimed the baronet), what is the matter? --
you look as if you was not a man for this world. -- Set him down
softly on the couch -- poor gentlemen! -- Lord have mercy upon us! --
What makes him so pale, and yellow, and bloated?' 'Oh, Sir
Thomas! (cried the justice) I doubt 'tis all over with me --
Those mushrooms I eat at your table have done my business -- ah!
oh! hey!' 'Now the Lord forbid! (said the other) -- what! man, have
a good heart -- How does thy stomach feel? -- hall?'
To this interrogation he made no reply; but throwing aside his
nightgown, discovered that his waist-coat would not meet upon his
belly by five good inches at least. 'Heaven protect us all!
(cried Sir Thomas) what a melancholy spectacle! -- never did I see
a man so suddenly swelled, but when he was either just dead, or
just dying. -- Doctor, can'st thou do nothing for this poor
object?' 'I don't think the case is quite desperate (said the
surgeon), but I would advise Mr Frogmore to settle his affairs
with all expedition; the parson may come and pray by him, while I
prepare a glyster and an emetic draught.
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