Hor. It has diminished the pleasure I had in reading a much better book. Lord Shaftsbury is my favourite author: I can take delight in enthusiasm; but the charms of it cease as soon as I am told what it is I enjoy. Since we are such odd creatures, why should we not make the most of it?
Cleo. I thought you was resolved to be better acquainted with yourself, and to search into your heart with care and boldness.
Hor. That is a cruel thing; I tried it three times since I saw you last, till it put me into a sweat, and then I was forced to leave off.
Cleo. You should try again, and use yourself by degrees to think abstractly, and then the book will be a great help to you.
Hor. To confound me it will: it makes a jest of all politeness and good manners.
Cleo. Excuse me, Sir, it only tells us, what they are.
Hor. It tells us, that all good manners consist in flattering the pride of others, and concealing our own. Is not that a horrid thing?
Cleo. But is it not true?
Hor. As soon as I had read that passage, it struck me: down I laid the book, and tried in above fifty instances, sometimes of civility, and sometimes of ill manners, whether it would answer or not, and I profess that it held good in every one.
Cleo. And so it would if you tried till doomsday.