sometimes, and have a taste of what they left behind them? or when they
have once got up, must they stay there, conversing with Virtue, and
smiling at wealth and glory and pleasure?

_Her_. The latter, assuredly; more than that, a man once admitted of
Virtue's company will never be subject to wrath or fear or desire any
more; no, nor can he feel pain, nor any such sensation.

_Ly_. Well, but--if one might dare to say what one thinks--but no--let me
keep a good tongue in my head--it were irreverent to pry into what wise
men do.

_Her_. Nay, nay; let me know your meaning.

_Ly_. Dear friend, I have not the courage.

_Her_. Out with it, my good fellow; we are alone.

_Ly_. Well, then--most of your account I followed and accepted--how
they grow wise and brave and just, and the rest--indeed I was quite
fascinated by it; but then you went on to say they despised wealth and
glory and pleasure; well, just there (quite between ourselves, you know)
I was pulled up; I thought of a scene t'other day with--shall I tell you
whom? Perhaps we can do without a name?

_Her_. No, no; we must have that too.

_Ly_. Your own professor himself, then,--a person to whom all
respect is due, surely, not to mention his years.