Englishman.  Why, then, he is an old dog, that’s all I can say; and pray are you to obey your dry-nurse too, this same, and what’s his name—­Mr. Harte?

Stanhope.  Yes.

Englishman.  So he stuffs you all morning with Greek, and Latin, and Logic, and all that.  Egad I have a dry-nurse too, but I never looked into a book with him in my life; I have not so much as seen the face of him this week, and don’t care a louse if I never see it again.

Stanhope.  My dry-nurse never desires anything of me that is not reasonable, and for my own good; and therefore I like to be with him.

Englishman.  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.