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They all went home & left the Philosophers. Then Suction asked if Pindar was not a better Poet, than Ghiotto was a Painter. "Plutarch has not the life of Ghiotto" said Sipsop. "No" said Quid, "to be sure he was an Italian." "Well" said Suction "that is not any proof." "Plutarch was a nasty ignorant puppy" said Quid. "I hate your sneaking rascals. There's Aradobo in twenty, ten or twelve years - will be a far superior genius. "Ah," said the Pythagorean. "Aradobo will make a very clever fellow." "Why" said Quid "I think that any natural fool would make a clever fellow if he was properly brought up." "Ah, hang your reasoning" said the Epicurean. "I hate reasoning. I do every thing by my feelings. "Ah" said Sipsop, "I only wish Jack Hunter Tearguts had had the cutting of Plutarch. He understands anatomy better than any of the Ancients: he'll plunge his knife up to the hilt in a single drive and thrust his fist in, and all in the space of a quarter of an hour. He does not mind their crying--tho' they cry ever so, he'll swear at them & keep them down with his fist & tell them that he'll scrape their bones if they don't lay still & be quiet--What the devil should the people in the hospital that have it done for nothing, make such a piece of work for." "Hang that" said Suction, "let us have a Song". "Then the Cynic sang" sang Sipsop. When old corruption first begun Adornd in yellow vest He committed on flesh a whoredom O what wicked beast From them a callow babe did spring And old corruption smil'd To think his race should never end For now he had a child He call'd him Surgery & fed The babe with his own milk For flesh & he could ne'er agree She would not let him suck And this he always kept in mind And form'd a crooked knife And ran about with bloody hands To seek his mother's life And as he ran to seek his mother He met with a dead woman He fell in love & married her A deed which is not common She soon grew pregnant & brought forth Scurvy & spotted fever The father grinn'd & skipt about And said I'm made for ever For now I have procur'd these imps I'll try experiments With that he tied poor scurvy down & stop't up all its vents And when the child began to swell He shouted out aloud I've found the dropsy out & soon Shall do the world more good He took up fever by the neck And cut out all its spots And thro' the holes which he had made He first discover'd guts "Ah" said Sipsop. "You think we are rascals & we think you are rascals. I do as I choose. What is it to anybody what I do? I am always unhappy too. When I think of Surgery, I don't know, I do it because I like it. My father does what he likes & so do I. I think somehow I'll leave it off. There was a woman having her cancer cut & she shriek'd so, that I was quite sick." |
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