Good evening, sir.
And you must be the friend of Mister Usher.
I'm so pleased to meet you, sir,
But have little time to spare
For knowledge such as mine is wanted everywhere.
In poor dwellings, yes, but some as great as Usher's.
My card...
[Montresor]
'J. Ducrow, Esq. Herbalist,
Doctor of Natural Medicine'...
[Herbalist]
At you service, and it could be, sir,
That you have need of my panaceas now...
I have Mandrake juice that will slake any fever,
Cures to convince you though you be an unbeliever now...
Laugh - would you? - at these seeds of mine.
You question the cure's causes,
But Logic and Reason do not answer,
And Nature runs her courses.
I have purest poppy for the soundest of sleeps;
A pure cake of hemp plant
That's a warranted surcease of worldly sorrow.
Lying words will be believed
If perfumed by this pastil,
Or my elixir's guaranteed
To bend the will of fairest womankind.
Scheme, would you, for a worldly gain?
Lust after a frigid virgin?
My herbs can grant your secret cravings
And my price is modest!
[Montresor] No! No!
[Herbalist] And my price is modest...
[Montresor] No, thank you! No!
[Herbalist] Oh it's very modest...
[Montresor] No, no thank you!
No!
No thank you,
No!
[Herbalist] Perhaps a poultice of Toadbane
For weakness of the manly parts,
Caused by too much wine or age,
Perhaps by over-frequent natural indulgence...
Applied with skill, it will
Revive the fleshy passions of a corpse...
...of a corpse
[Montresor] I said no
I meant no!
[Herbalist] Well then, Good-day...