Nay, I know not that. I am disgusted with this way of life, I assure you, and have very serious thoughts of reforming my bad habits.
ROBINAIR.
Reforming, ha! ha! ha! Why, what's the matter with thee? Hast thou got gout in thy head, or water in thy chest; or has thy good-natured physician threatened thee with apoplexy? Ha! ha! I am concerned to enquire into this matter, thou knowest, as thou intendest most certainly to make me thine executor.
BRUTON.
No, Robinair, I have none of the diseases you mention, nor any other, that I know of; but no one knows how long he may enjoy either health or life.
ROBINAIR (with mock solemnity).
To be sure, nobody knows how soon his glass may be run. Nobody knows when death may knock at his own door—we are all here to-day, but know not where we may be to-morrow. I have heard all this twenty years ago, from a much better preacher than thou art.—Come, come, let us go into the house again: our cool tankard is waiting for us.
