Multum et terris
jactatus et alto. Twice have I made my fortune--got me enough of the
wealth of Ormus and of Ind to buy up half your county. Twice, alas! has
an unkind Fate robbed me of my all! But, as I said, 'tis my own fault.
Nemo contentus, sir--you know the passage? I was not satisfied: I must
have a little more; and yet a little more. I put my wealth forth in
hazardous enterprises--presto! it is swept away. But I was born, sir,
after all, under a merry star. Nothing discourages me. After a brief
sojourn for recuperation in this salubrious spot, I shall return; and
this time, mark you, I shall run no risks. Five years to make my fortune;
then I shall come home, content with a round ten lakhs."
"What is a lakh?"
"Ah, I forgot, you are not acquainted with these phrases of the Orient. A
lakh, my friend, is a hundred thousand rupees, say twelve thousand
pounds. And I warrant you I will not squander it as a certain gentleman
we know squandered his."
"You mean General Clive?"
"Colonel Clive, my friend. Yes, I say Colonel Clive has squandered his
fortune. Why, he came home with thirty lakhs at the least: and what does
he do? He must ruffle it in purple and fine linen, and feed the fat in
royal entertainments; then, forsooth, he stands for a seat in Parliament,
pours out his gold like water--to what end? A petition is presented
against his return: the House holds an inquiry; and the end of the sorry
farce is, that Mr. Robert Clive's services are dispensed with.
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