The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 322: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE LORD AND THE MERCHANT 291 you that I have entered this night into all these recapitula- tions for the purpose of parading my own generosity in a pecuniary sense toward your father and yourself? Or think you that I seek to enhance the importance of the favour I am about to bestow upon you, — a favour which however great it may be in reference to your present necessities, is in respect to my means and resources of the most trumpery and trivial description. No, these are not my objects. But I wish to let you know, Lord Viscount Rushbrook, that I am not your dupe.” “My dupe? Ha! ha! Sir Frederick, that is really too good! ”’ and the viscount affected to laugh chucklingly. “It would be rather difficult, I fancy, to get the better of a shrewd, clear-headed man of business such as you are.”’ “It is the very thing of which I am seeking to convince you,” rejoined Sir Frederick, ‘‘ for if I give you my money, and if I have given your father my money, it is that I toss my thousands to you patrician beggars of Belgravia just as when the humour takes me I toss my pence to the grovelling mendicants of St. Giles’s or Whitechapel.’’ “On my soul, these are hard words, Sir Frederick! ”’ ejaculated the viscount, colouring. “Doubtless they are hard words,’ responded the mer- chant, “‘ but it is your own fault, and that of your father, if they are now addressed to you. I will come to the point. The Earl of Fordwich boasts that his patrician hand has been eraciously and condescendingly pleased to grasp my plebeian hand. Such things as these is your right honourable father constantly saying, while your right honourable mother hesi- tates not to declare that her daughter was thrown away upon a City merchant, when with a little trouble and manceuvring she might no doubt have married one of her own sphere. Mark, — one of her own sphere. It is easy, therefore, to comprehend what your lady-mother thinks of me. But with you, my lord viscount, it is infinitely worse. In your sober moments as well as in your drunken revelries you have spoken scornfully of the City merchant. Have the words ‘vain, pompous, self-sufficient, upstart,’ never issued from your lips? But I will not dwell upon these things, though I can assure you they wound me not, for I can scorn and de- spise them. I have said enough to convince you, my lord, that I am not your dupe. I know that in your heart you CORMMICLO© CS (CO)