Scene 2 Doctor’s Shop — Cato Making Pills
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.
Enter Mr. Parker’s Bill, L.
Cato. What you come in dat door widout knockin’ for?
Bill. My toof ache so, I didn’t tink to knock. Oh, my toof! my toof! Whar is de doctor?
Cato. Here I is; don’t you see me?
Bill. What! you de doctor, you brack cuss! You looks like a doctor! Oh, my toof! my toof! Whar is de doctor?
Cato. I tells you I is de doctor. Ef you don’t believe me, ax dese men. I can pull your toof in a minnit.
Bill. Well, den, pull it out. Oh, my toof! how it aches! Oh, my toof!
[Cato gets the rusty turnkeys.
Cato. Now lay down on your back.
Bill. What for?
Cato. Dat’s de way massa does.
Bill. Oh, my toof! Well, den, come on. [Lies down, Cato gets astraddle of Bill’s breast, puts the turnkeys on the wrong tooth, and pulls—Bill kicks, and cries out]—Oh, do stop! Oh! oh! oh!
[Cato pulls the wrong tooth—Bill jumps up.
Cato. Dar, now, I tole you I could pull your toof for you.
Bill. Oh, dear me! Oh, it aches yet! Oh me! Oh, Lor-e-massy! You dun pull de wrong toof. Drat your skin! ef I don’t pay you for this, you brack cuss!
[They fight, and turn over table, chairs and bench—Pete and Ned look on.
Enter Dr. Gaines, R.
Dr. G. Why, dear me, what’s the matter? What’s all this about? I’ll teach you a lesson, that I will.
[The doctor goes at them with his cane.
Cato. Oh, massa! he’s to blame, sir. He’s to blame. He struck me fuss.
Bill. No, sir; he’s to blame; he pull de wrong toof. Oh, my toof! oh, my toof!
Dr. G. Let me see your tooth. Open your mouth. As I live, you’ve taken out the wrong tooth. I am amazed. I’ll whip you for this; I’ll whip you well. You’re a pretty doctor. Now lie down, Bill, and let him take out the right tooth; and if he makes a mistake this time, I’ll cowhide him well. Lie down, Bill. [Bill lies down, and Cato pulls the tooth.] There now, why didn’t you do that in the first place?
Cato. He wouldn’t hole still, sir.
Bill. He lies, sir. I did hole still.
Dr. G. Now go home, boys; go home.
[Exit Pete, Ned and Bill, L.
Dr. G. You’ve made a pretty muss of it, in my absence. Look at the table! Never mind, Cato; I’ll whip you well for this conduct of yours to-day. Go to work now, and clear up the office.
[Exit Dr. Gaines, R.
Cato. Confound dat nigger! I wish he was in Ginny. He bite my finger and scratch my face. But didn’t I give it to him? Well, den, I reckon I did. [He goes to the mirror, and discovers that his coat is torn—weeps.] Oh, dear me! Oh, my coat—my coat is tore! Dat nigger has tore my coat. [He gets angry, and rushes about the room frantic.] Cuss dat nigger! Ef I could lay my hands on him, I’d tare him all to pieces,—dat I would. An’ de ole boss hit me wid his cane after dat nigger tore my coat. By golly, I wants to fight somebody. Ef ole massa should come in now, I’d fight him. [Rolls up his sleeves.] Let ’em come now, ef dey dare—ole massa, or any body else; I’m ready for ’em.
Enter Dr. Gaines, R.
Dr. G. What’s all this noise here?
Cato. Nuffin’, sir; only jess I is puttin’ things to rights, as you tole me. I didn’t hear any noise except de rats.
Dr. G. Make haste, and come in; I want you to go to town.
[Exit Dr. Gaines, R.
Cato. By golly, de ole boss like to cotch me dat time, didn’t he? But wasn’t I mad? When I is mad, nobody can do nuffin’ wid me. But here’s my coat, tore to pieces. Cuss dat nigger! [Weeps.] Oh, my coat! oh, my coat! I rudder he had broke my head den to tore my coat. Drat dat nigger! Ef he ever comes here agin, I’ll pull out every toof he’s got in his head—dat I will.
[Exit, R.