Tristo. “Ah! Pulito, you are always the same careless fellow, and ’twere vain to hope for any thing else from you; but cannot you sit down for one evening and have a long and sober talk. You know some of us leave town soon, and we may not have another opportunity.”
Pulito. “Indeed, Tristo, I am sorry to disappoint you; but this evening I have an engagement from which I really cannot get excused; the rest of the term I am entirely at your service.”
Nescio. “I’ll wager any thing from a pin’s head to ‘this great globe itself’ that there’s a lady in the case.”
Pulito. “Weel, an there be, gude Maister Quod.”
Nescio. “Why you remember your boastful resolution to eschew all connection with any thing more substantial than ‘Fancy’s daughters three,’ during the hot weather.”
Pulito. “And whether these be ‘Faith, Hope and Charity,’ or ‘Wine, Women and Coxcombry,’ depends very much upon the fancier’s temperament.”
Tristo. “I am afraid, my dear Pulito, that your aspirations after learning are becoming less ardent; and unless you are more earnest, your poetic ambition will fain be contented with being laureate of the Coffee Club.”
Pulito. “‘What is learning but a cloak-bag of books, cumbersome for a gentleman to carry? and the muses fit to make wives for farmers’ sons?’ What Fuller, in his ‘degenerous gentleman’ says in irony, I would adopt in sober earnest.”
Nescio. “Well, I perceive we shall get nothing from you to-night, so you may go. But first tell us if you have seen any thing of Apple.”
Pulito. “Indeed, I have, and bring quite a message from him, which, but for your suggestion, I should have forgotten. By my troth, in my head, ‘dies truditur die,’—one idea thrusts out another. But for the story—I met Apple walking most abstractedly with the huge roll of his autobiography under his arm. When I asked him what he was thinking about, he obstinately confined his information to the mysterious remark that he was ‘coming up’ this evening. As soon, however, as he discovered that I did not intend to be there, he unfolded his whole purpose—under an express injunction of secrecy, which I ought to keep, and which I will keep—though I will give you an inkling of it, as it may afford you some sport. He will probably appear particularly brilliant, and converse more like himself, his peculiar self. Verb. sat sap. Make fun of him if you can, for I owe him a grudge for a spiteful pun, which he made on a lady’s name. However, my masters, after I have given my neck-kerchief the blameless tie, and curled my hair with the twist extatic, I will leave you to your dull coffee, and bask me in the warmth of thy sunny eyes, oh beautiful *—— *——.”