Morning Read:
Thrown Away

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¶ Just in case Stanhope can’t speak for himself, his father composes a little dialogue, with which to fend off high-living compatriots abroad. Then, to finish off this parental gift, Chesterfield underlines the worldly sophistication of his dramaturgy.

You will observe, that I have not put into your mouth those good arguments, which upon such an occasion would, I am sure, occur to you; as piety and affection toward me; regard and friendship for Mr Harte; respect for your own moral character, and for all the relative duties of man, son, pupil, and citizen. Such solid arguments would be thrown away upon such shallow puppies. Leave them to their ignorance, and to their dirty, disgraceful vices.

It goes without saying that Lord Chesterfield would not have comprehended the modern-day etiquette of “boundaries.”

¶ In Moby-Dick, a virtual Wikipedia entry on the subject of ambergris. I had never thought much about ambergris, and I suppose that I always thought it was the same thing as whale oil. But no. It is not.

Of course, the Wikipedia entry is imcomparably clearer.

¶ In Don Quixote, the Cockaigne-like largesse of Camacho’s wedding feast brings out Sancho’s material guy.

You’re worth what you have, and what you have is what you’re worth. There are only two lineages in the world, as my grandmother used to say, and that’s the haves and have-nots, though she was on the side of having; nowadays, Señor Don Quixote, wealth is better than wisdom: an ass covered in gold seems better than saddled horse.

¶ In Squillions, Noël Coward turns down the lead in The King and I.

It would have made a lot of money for him; it would have have burnished his image, and been an undoubed hit with that combination of talents — but it would not have been his.

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