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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.
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.
How I linger, how I listen for each mellow note that falls, Clear as chime of angels floating downward o'er the jasper walls! Every night, when winds are moaning round my chamber by the sea, Thine's the face that through the darkness latest looks with love at me; And I dream, ere thou departest, thou dost press thy lips to mine; Then I sleep as slept the Immortals after draughts of Hebe's wine!
But thine's a raging Fire, which never ceases Till it has quite destroy'd the goodly Edifice Where it first took beginning. Faith, strive, Sir, to suppress it. Alcip. No, I'll let it run to its extent, And see what then 'twill do. Perhaps 'twill make me mad, or end my life, Either of which will ease me. Pis.
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