I tell you I won't have it.
DOCTOR. You'll have to have it. You're a dunderheaded lump of
obstinacy, but I've taken a fancy to ye and I decline to let ye
kill yeself.
HOBSON. I've escaped from the thraldom of women once, and--
DOCTOR. And a pretty mess you've made of your liberty. Now this
Maggie ye mention--if ye'll tell me where she's to be found, I'll
just step round and have a crack with her maself, for I've gone
beyond the sparing of a bit of trouble over ye.
HOBSON. You'll waste your time.
DOCTOR. I'll cure you, Mr. Hobson. (_Crosses to_ C. _and turns_.)
HOBSON. She won't come back.
DOCTOR. Oh. Now that's a possibility. If she's a sensible body I
concur with your opinion she'll no come back, but women are a
soft-hearted race and she'll maybe take pity on ye after all.
HOBSON. I want no pity.
DOCTOR. If she's the woman that I take her for ye'll get no pity.
Ye'll get discipline.
(HOBSON _rises and tries to speak_.)
Don't interrupt me, sir. I'm talking.
HOBSON. I've noticed it. (_Sits_.)
DOCTOR. You asked me for a cure, and Maggie's the name of the
cure you need. Maggie, sir, do you hear? Maggie!
(_Enter_ MAGGIE L., _in outdoor clothes_.)
MAGGIE. What about me?
DOCTOR (_staggered, then_).
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