 one Penny in his Pocket; a Situation in much greater Credit
among the ancient Philosophers, than among the modern wise Men who live in
Lombard Street, or those who frequent White's Chocolate-House. And, perhaps, the
great Honours which those Philosophers have ascribed to an empty Pocket, may be
one of the Reasons of that high Contempt in which they are held in the aforesaid
Street and Chocolate-House.
    Now if the antient Opinion, that Men might live very comfortably on Virtue
only, be, as the modern wise Men just abovementioned pretend to have discovered,
a notorious Error; no less false is, I apprehend, that Position of some Writers
of Romance, that a Man can live altogether on Love: For however delicious
Repasts this may afford to some of our Senses or Appetites, it is most certain
it can afford none to others. Those, therefore, who have placed too great a
Confidence in such Writers, have experienced their Error when it was too late;
and have found that Love was no more capable of allaying Hunger, than a Rose is
capable of delighting the Ear, or a Violin of gratifying the Smell.
    Notwithstanding, therefore, all the Delicacies which Love had set before
him, namely, the Hopes of seeing Sophia at the Masquerade; on which, however
ill-founded his Imagination might be, he had voluptuously feasted during the
whole Day, the Evening no sooner came, than Mr. Jones began to languish for some
Food of a grosser Kind. Partridge discovered this by Intuition, and took the
Occasion to give some oblique Hints concerning the Bank-bill, and when those
were rejected with Disdain, he collected Courage enough once more to mention a
Return to Mr. Allworthy.
    »Partridge,« cries Jones, »you cannot see my Fortune in a more desperate
Light than I see it myself; and I begin heartily to repent, that I suffered you
to leave a Place, where you was settled, and to follow me. However, I insist now
on your returning Home; and for the Expence and Trouble which you have so kindly
put yourself to on my Account, all the Cloaths I left behind in your Care, I
desire you would take as your own. I am sorry I can make you no other
Acknowledgment.«
    He spoke these Words with so pathetic an Accent, that Partridge, among whose
Vices Ill-Nature or Hardness of Heart were not numbered, burst into Tears; and
after swearing he would not quit him in his Distress, he began with the most
earnest Intreaties to urge his return Home. »For
