give him, his company:  As the duke was alone, the young lord either could not, or would not, refuse him.  They went together for Paris, where they arrived about midnight.  The duke’s companion then supposing his grace’s business might demand privacy, offered to leave him and come again, when it should be finished; but he assured his lordship it was not necessary; upon which they went upon the following frolic together.  The first thing to be done, was to hire a coach and four horses; the next to find out the music belonging to the Opera, six or eight of which his grace engaged at a set price:  The young lord could not imagine in what this would end; till they returned to St. Germains, which was at five the next morning when the duke marching directly with his troop to the castle, ordered them to strike upon the stairs.  Then the plot broke out into execution, being no more than to serenade some young ladies, near whose apartments they then were.

’This piece of extravagant gallantry being over, the duke persuaded the young lord to go about a mile off, to Poissy, where an English gentleman ’of their acquaintance lived:  His lordship consenting, the duke took with him a pair of trumpets, and a kettle-drum, to give the music a more martial air:  But to this the Opera music made an objection at first, because as they should be wanted that night in their posts, they should forfeit half a louis d’ or each, for non-appearance.  Half a louis d’ or! says his grace, follow the duke of Wharton, and all your forfeitures shall be paid.  They did so, and entered Poissy in such a musical manner, that they alarmed the whole town, and their friend did not know whether he had best keep his house, or fly for it; but the affair was soon explained, and the musical troop was entertained by the gentleman their friend, in a very handsome manner.  This frolic being now finished, there was one thing more absolutely necessary, viz. to discharge the reckoning, upon which occasion the duke in a very laconic manner addressed himself to the young lord.’  My lord, says he, ’I have not one livre in my pocket, wherefore I must desire you to pay these fellows, and I’ll do as much for you whenever I am able.  Upon this his lordship with great chearfulness, paid all demands, amounting to 25 louis d’ ors.’

It may seem a strange observation, but it is certainly true, that the brute creation differs not more from the rational in many respects, than a man from himself:  That by suffering passions to usurp the dominion of the soul, human nature is stript of its dignity, debased to the beasts that perish, and still rendered more ignominious by the complications of guilt.  We have already seen the duke of Wharton set up as the idol of an admiring people; an august senate listened to the enchantments of his eloquence; a powerful ministry dreading his resolutions; he was courted, flattered, feared; and obeyed.  View him now, and the scene is shifted.  Observe him descending to the most abject trifling, stooping to the meanest expedients, and the orator and statesman transformed to the vagabond and the wanderer.