The obscene M.D.
Contains dialogue: [Publisher:] "Your last book goes off famously, doctor; the young fellows come in, by dozens, to buy it. Nothing like a highly-seasoned work, to sell: -So I have advertised it in all the papers which find their way into schools and colleges. We can push the thing, because it is written by an M.D.; the police authorities can't touch us, we are beyond all law; because we are privileged by the law to write obscene books, and call it science. This trade of ours enables us to ride about in our carriages, with a lot of servants, all of which is owing to the mystery and confusion in which the whole question is kept by the Royal colleges, as they are called." [Doctor:] Ha! ha! ha! -capital, by Jove. Yes, as you say, Mr. Quarto, we may defy the police and all the anti-vice societies: let these touch an M.D., if they can: our diplomas protect us. It's a jolly lark, though, isn't it? Licensed to write, publish and sell, all the obscenities we can collect. By-the-by, I like the way in which you got the plate coloured in my last; it leaves nothing to the imagination. The only thing which can knock up our trade is, Mr. Morison's system, by which everyone becomes his own physician." [A wastepaper basket is marked: 100 letters for advice (fee 1 guinea each) from deluded patients. [Books scattered on floor:] Manly vigour. With 100 engravings. Silent friend. 50 coloured engravings. Mysteries of matrimony. With engravings. Human happiness. By a member of the Royal College of Physicians. 100 engravings.
A wastepaper basket is marked: "100 letters for advice (fee 1 guinea each) from deluded patients". Books scattered on floor: Manly vigour. With 100 engravings. Silent friend. 50 coloured engravings. Mysteries of matrimony. With engravings. Human happiness. By a member of the Royal College of Physicians. 100 engravings.
