of Paris had the insolence to take him off upon
the Theatre, as an avaricious man who drank
out of a vessel full of pieces of gold, without
being able to quench his thirst. "Buffoons,"
said he coolly, " think they have the privilege to
turn every one into ridicule. I am not more
perfect than the rest of mankind. The idea is
fair enough. I very readily forgive them: and
after all," added he, "I had rather that my
people laughed at my parsimony, than that they
wept at my prodigality."