Letters to His Son, 1749 [29]
Stanhope. I can't do that neither; I am engaged.
Englishman. Well, then, let it be the next day.
Stanhope. To tell you the truth, it can be no day in the morning; for I neither go out, nor see anybody at home before twelve.
Englishman. And what the devil do you do with yourself till twelve o'clock?
Stanhope. I am not by myself; I am with Mr. Harte.
Englishman. Then what the devil do you do with him?
Stanhope. We study different things; we read, we converse.
Englishman. Very pretty amusement indeed! Are you to take orders then?
Stanhope. Yes, my father's orders, I believe I must take.
Englishman. Why hast thou no more spirit, than to mind an old fellow a thousand miles off?
Stanhope. If I don't mind his orders he won't mind my draughts.
Englishman. What, does the old prig threaten then? threatened folks live long; never mind threats.
Stanhope. No, I can't say that he has ever threatened me in his life; but I believe I had best not provoke him.
Englishman. Pooh! you would have one angry letter from the old fellow, and there would be an end of it.
Stanhope. You mistake him mightily; he always does more than he says. He has never been angry with me yet, that I remember, in his life; but if I were to provoke him, I am sure he would never forgive me; he would be coolly immovable, and I might beg and pray, and write my heart out to no purpose.
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;