knowledge, it would only furnish them with matter for silly jests; which,
though I would not have you mind, I would not have you invite. I will
suppose you at Rome studying six hours uninterruptedly with Mr. Harte,
every morning, and passing your evenings with the best company of Rome,
observing their manners and forming your own; and I will suppose a number
of idle, sauntering, illiterate English, as there commonly is there,
living entirely with one another, supping, drinking, and sitting up late
at each other's lodgings; commonly in riots and scrapes when drunk, and
never in good company when sober. I will take one of these pretty
fellows, and give you the dialogue between him and yourself; such as, I
dare say, it will be on his side; and such as, I hope, it will be on
yours:--

Englishman. Will you come and breakfast with me tomorrow? there will be
four or five of our countrymen; we have provided chaises, and we will
drive somewhere out of town after breakfast.

Stanhope. I am very sorry I cannot; but I am obliged to be at home all
morning.

Englishman. Why, then, we will come and breakfast with you.

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