"And so do I, but that's nothing to the point. May be you consider that you're equal to Mr. Otway or even Mr. Cibber, I leave Mr. Gay out of the count. He's written nothing that's likely to live and never will. He's too lazy."
"You dislike Mr. Gay, 'tis well known, because he's Mr. Pope's friend. I do not and that's my objection to writing for you. I doubt not you would ask me to attack the most talented men of the age simply because you hate them or you want to air some grievance."
"You're wrong. I do it to sell my books and put money in my pocket. If you write for me you won't be called upon to express your own opinions. All you have to do is to express mine and keep your body and soul together comfortably. You can't do that now and the two'll part company before long unless you alter. You were not so squeamish last night at the Chapter Coffee House."
"There was a reason for that. I was full of wine and hardly knew what I was saying."
"I'll warrant you didn't. That same wine, let me tell you, will be your undoing. Now that your head is clear you'd better think over my offer. It will at least provide you with a more decent coat and wig than those you're wearing. A young man should dress smartly. What's his life worth to him unless women look kindly upon him? Do you expect they care for a shabby gallant?"
Vane was silent. Some of Curll's words had gone home.
"I'll think it over," said he at last.
"That's right. Think over it and if you're in love, as you ought to be, ask your girl if I'm not right. Have a night's consideration and come and see me to-morrow. I wish you good-night and—more sense."