A Woman that lay under the Mortification of A Fudling Husband, took him once when he was dead Drunk; and had his Body laid in a Charnel-House. By the time she thought he might be come to Himself again, away goes she, and Knocks at the Door. Who's There? (says the Toper) One, says the Woman, that brings Meat for the Dead. Friend, says he, bring me Drink rather. I wonder any Body that knows me, should bring me one without T'other. Nay then, says she, the Humour I perceive has taken Possession of him; he has gotten a habit, and his Case is Desperate.
Inveterate Ill Habits become Another Nature to us, and we may almost as well be Taken to Pieces, and New put together again, as Mended.Source:
L'Estrange 157.
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