“Pray my dear, addressing myself in a very soft tone to “the Lady,” when will it be convenient for you to suffer me to invite a select party of brother authors, to partake of a humble repast?
Whom in particular do you wish to ask?
You know all my literary friends and connections, and I think I cannot do better than to leave the selection to yourself.
Well then I have no objection, provided you do not invite the rich author.
Whom is it you mean?
I am surprized at your dullness. Pray are there many rich authors?
Certainly not.
Well, then, I mean that man who, because he has a great command of money, and has written some trifling pieces of poetry, assumes great personal importance, and crosses on the other side to avoid the salutation of men far superior to himself in genius and learning, who having heard from one of your old poets, that I have heard you talk about, that they who drink water can never produce a good poem, conceives himself to be a solitary exception, and that the pure stream of Helicon is reserved exclusively for him.
Enough, my dear, the Rich Author shall not break bread with us.