the fellow seemed to mind his loom and his spinning-wheel, till somebody turned his head; then he grew so pragmatical, that he took upon him the government of my whole family. I could never order any thing within or without doors, but he must be always giving his counsel, forsooth, nevertheless, tell him I will forgive what is past; and if he would mind his business for the future, and not meddle out of his own sphere, he will find, that John Bull is not of a cruel disposition.
D. Diego. Yet all your skilful physicians say, that nothing can recover your mother, but a piece of Jack's liver boiled in her soup.
J. Bull. Those are quacks: my mother abhors such cannibal's food: she is in perfect health at present: I would have given many a good pound to have had her so well some time ago. There are indeed two or three old troublesome nurses[1], that, because they believe I am tender-hearted, will never let me have a quiet night's rest with knocking me up: "Oh, sir, your mother is taken extremely ill! she is fallen into a fainting fit! she has a great emptiness, wants sustenance!" This is only to recommend themselves for their great care: John Bull, as simple as he is, understands a little of a pulse.
