"That would, on the contrary, be to humble your Vanity. In a Word, Sir, I cannot! you must grant me my Pride, instead of pretending to gratify your Vanity; and my Pride is to be a free Man, and speak the Truth unpaid."
"Well, you are an Eccentricity. I'm afraid you won't find it answer in the long Run. I'll tell you what I'll do; for I must do Something. Cave will flout at the very idea of publishing Poems with such a Dedication as yours; permit me the Use of your Manuscript for a Day or two. I'll read a Passage of it here and there at my Coffee-House, and ditto at Dodsley's, sing its Praises, and make a Mystery of its Author; instead of offering it him for Publication, I'll wait till he makes Advances to me. See if that won't do!"
"Mr. Caryl, you are making me your Slave—I mean, your Debtor, for Life!"
"Why, a Debtor is a sort of Slave to his Creditor, you free Man! See how soon you are chained! However, don't let us reckon our Chickens before they are hatched. The Plan may take, or may fail. Farewell."
And I heard him lightly run down Stairs; and looking softly out of my Window, I could see Mr. Fenwick leaning on his Window-Sill, his Cheek resting on his Hand, in profound and, I doubt not, blissful Reverie. Perhaps a Man more peacefully happy than he was at that Moment did not exist.
