"The same; the best-looking fellow of his day! A sketch of his history is in the 'Tatler,' under the name of 'Orlando the Fair.' He is terribly fallen as to fortune since the day when he drove about in a car like a sea-shell, with a dozen tall fellows, in the Austrian livery, black and yellow, running before and behind him. You know he claims relationship to the house of Hapsburg. As for the present, he writes poems, makes love, is still good-natured, humorous, and odd; is rather unhappily addicted to wine and borrowing, and rigidly keeps that oath of the Carthusians which never suffers them to carry any money about them." "An acquaintance more likely to yield amusement than profit." "Exactly so. He will favour you with a visit--to-morrow, perhaps, and you will remember his propensities." "Ah! who ever forgets a warning that relates to his purse!" "True!" said Tarleton, sighing. "Alas! my guinea, thou and I have parted company forever! /vale, vale, inquit Iolas/!" CHAPTER V. THE BEAU IN HIS DEN, AND A PHILOSOPHER DISCOVERED. MR. FIELDING having twice favoured me with visits, which found me from home, I thought it right to pay my respects to him; accordingly one morning I repaired to his abode. It was situated in a street which had been excessively the mode some thirty years back; and the house still exhibited a stately and somewhat ostentatious exterior. I observed a considerable cluster of infantine ragamuffins collected round the door, and no sooner did the portal open to my summons than they pressed forward in a manner infinitely more zealous than respectful. A servant in the Austrian livery, with a broad belt round his middle, officiated as porter. "Look, look!" cried one of the youthful gazers, "look at the Beau's /keeper/!" This imputation on his own respectability and that of his master, the domestic seemed by no means to relish; for, muttering some maledictory menace, which I at first took to be German, but which I afterwards found to be Irish, he banged the door in the faces of the intrusive impertinents, and said, in an accent which suited very ill with his Continental attire,-- "And is it my master you're wanting, Sir?" "It is." "And you would be after seeing him immediately?" "Rightly conjectured, my sagacious friend." "Fait then, your honour, my master's in bed with a terrible fit of the megrims." "Then you will favour me by giving this card to your master, and expressing my sorrow at his indisposition." Upon this the orange-coloured lacquey, very quietly reading the address on the card, and spelling letter by letter in an audible mutter, rejoined, "C--o--u (cou) n--t (unt) Count, D--e--v. Och, by my shoul, and it's Count Devereux after all I'm thinking?" "You think with equal profundity and truth." "You may well say that, your honour. Stip in a bit: I'll tell my master; it is himself that will see you in a twinkling!" "But you forget that your master is ill?" said I.