. Very sententious and edifying, upon my word! at this rate you
will be reckoned a very good young man.

Stanhope. Why, that will do me no harm.

Englishman. Will you be with us to-morrow in the evening, then? We shall
be ten with you; and I have got some excellent good wine; and we'll be
very merry.

Stanhope. I am very much obliged to you, but I am engaged for all the
evening, to-morrow; first at Cardinal Albani's; and then to sup at the
Venetian Ambassadress's.

Englishman. How the devil can you like being always with these
foreigners? I never go among them with all their formalities and
ceremonies. I am never easy in company with them, and I don't know why,
but I am ashamed.

Stanhope. I am neither ashamed nor afraid; I am very, easy with them;
they are very easy with me; I get the language, and I see their
characters, by conversing with them; and that is what we are sent abroad
for, is it not?

Englishman. I hate your modest women's company; your women of fashion as
they call 'em; I don't know what to say to them, for my part.

Stanhope. Have you ever conversed with them?

Englishman. No; I never conversed with them; but have been sometimes in
their company, though much against my will.

Stanhope. But at least they have done you no hurt; which is, probably,
more than you can say of the women you do converse with.

Englishman. That's true, I own; but for all that, I would rather keep
company with my surgeon half the year, than with your women of fashion
the year round.

Stanhope. Tastes are different, you know, and every man follows his own.

Englishman. That's true; but thine's a devilish odd one, Stanhope. All
morning with thy dry-nurse; all the evening in formal fine company; and
all day long afraid of Old Daddy in England. Thou art a queer fellow, and
I am afraid there is nothing to be made of thee.

Stanhope. I am afraid so too.

Englishman. Well, then, good night to you; you have no objection, I hope,
to my being drunk to-night, which I certainly will be.

Stanhope. Not in the least; nor to your being sick tomorrow, which you as
certainly will be; and so good night, too.

You will observe, that I have not put into your mouth those good
arguments which upon such an occasion would, I am sure, occur to you; as
piety and affection toward me; regard and friendship for Mr. Harte;
respect for your own moral character, and for all the relative duties of
man, son, pupil, and citizen. Such solid argu