he mind.

(The _Savant_ presents his book, a collection of verses dedicated to the
Marchioness, to Tullia, who reads a page, admires the type, and says to
the author:)

_Tullia._--Truly, sir, printing is a fine thing; and if it can
immortalize such verses as these, it appears to me to be the noblest
effort of art. But do you not at least employ this invention in printing
the works of my father?

The _Savant._--Yes, madam, but nobody reads them; I am truly concerned
for your father, but in these days, little is known of him save his
name.

(Here are brought in chocolate, tea, coffee, and ices. Tullia is
astonished to see, in summer, cream and strawberries[4] iced. She is
informed that such congealed beverages are obtained in five minutes,
by means of the salt-petre with which they are surrounded, and that by
continual motion, is produced their firmness and icy coldness. She is
speechless with astonishment. The dark colour of the chocolate and
coffee, somewhat disgust her, and she asks whether these liquids are
extracted from the plants of the country?--A duke who is present,
replies:)

_Duke._--The fruits of which these beverages are composed, come from
another world, and from the Gulf of Arabia.

_Tullia._--Arabia I remember; but never heard mention made of what you
call coffee; and as for another world, I know only of that from whence
I came, and do assure you, we have no chocolate there.

_Duke._--The world of which we tell you, madam, is a continent, called
America, almost as large as Europe, Asia, and Africa, put together; and
of which we have a knowledge less vague, than of the world from whence
you came.

_Tullia._--What! Did we then, who styled ourselves masters of the world,
possess only half of it? The reflection is truly humiliating!

The _Savant._--(piqued that Tullia had pronounced his verses bad,
replies dryly:) Yes, your countrymen who boasted of having made
themselves masters of the world, had scarce conquered the twentieth part
of it. We have at this moment, at the further end of Europe, an empire
larger in itself than the Roman:[5] it is governed, too, by a woman, who
excels you in intellect and beauty, and who wears _chemises;_ had she
read my verses, I am certain she would have thought them good.

(The Marchioness commands silence on the part of the author, who has
treated a Roman lady, the daughter of Cicero, with disrespect. The duke
explains the discovery of America, and taking out his