“Perhaps, doctor, you are only speaking popularly?” “I believe what I now say to be true,” said Dr. X----, “and I always endeavour to make truth popular.” “But possibly these are only truths for ladies. Doctor X---- may be such an ungallant philosopher, as to think that some truths are not fit for ladies. He may hold a different language with gentlemen.” “I should not only be an ungallant but a weak philosopher,” said Dr. X----, “if I thought that truth was not the same for all the world who can understand it. And who can doubt Lady Delacour’s being of that number?” Lady Delacour, who, at the beginning of this conversation, had spoken guardedly, from the fear of lowering the doctor’s opinion of her understanding, was put at her ease by the manner in which he now spoke; and, half laying aside the tone of raillery, she said to him, “Well, doctor! seriously, I am not so _illiberal_ as to condemn _all_ chaplains for one, odious as he was. But where to find his contrast in these degenerate days? Can you, who are a defender of the faith, and so forth, assist me? Will you recommend a chaplain to my lord?” “Willingly,” said Dr. X----; “and that is what I would not say for a world of fees, unless I were sure of my man.” “What sort of a man is he?” “Not a buck parson.” “And I hope not a pedant, not a dogmatist, for that would be almost as bad. Before we domesticate another chaplain, I wish to know all his qualities, and to have a full and true description of him.” “Shall I then give you a full and true description of him in the words of Chaucer?” “In any words you please. But Chaucer’s chaplain must be a little old-fashioned by this time, I should think.” “Pardon me. Some people, as well as some things, never grow old-fashioned. I should not be ashamed to produce Chaucer’s parish priest at this day to the best company in England--I am not ashamed to produce him to your ladyship; and if I can remember twenty lines in his favour, I hope you will give me credit for being a sincere friend to the worthy part of the clergy. Observe, you must take them as I can patch them together; I will not promise that I can recollect twenty lines _de suite_, and without missing a word; that is what I would not swear to do for His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury.” “His Grace will probably excuse you from swearing; at least I will,” said Lady Delacour, “on the present occasion: so now for your twenty lines in whatever order you please.” Doctor X----, with sundry intervals of recollection, which may be spared the reader, repeated the following lines: