good.

_Mr Escot._
In other words, no man whatever would resign his identity, which is
nothing more than the consciousness of his perceptions, as the price
of any acquisition. But every man, without exception, would willingly
effect a very material change in his relative situation to other
individuals. Unluckily for the rest of your argument, the
understanding of literary people is for the most part _exalted_, as
you express it, not so much by the love of truth and virtue, as by
arrogance and self-sufficiency; and there is, perhaps, less
disinterestedness, less liberality, less general benevolence, and more
envy, hatred, and uncharitableness among them, than among any other
description of men.

(_The eye of Mr Escot, as he pronounced these words, rested very
innocently and unintentionally on Mr Gall._)

_Mr Gall._
You allude, sir, I presume, to my review.

_Mr Escot._
Pardon me, sir. You will be convinced it is impossible I can allude to
your review, when I assure you that I have never read a single page of
it.

_Mr Gall, Mr Treacle, Mr Nightshade, and Mr Mac Laurel._
Never read our review! ! ! !

_Mr Escot._