Hor. I cannot conceive what nicety it is you aim at, in that distinction.
Cleo. The word you named includes no idea of reproach or disparagement; the greatest capacities may, without discredit to them, yield to persuasion, as well as the least; but those who can be gained by coaxing and wheedling, are commonly supposed to be persons of mean parts and weak understandings.
Hor. But pray come to the point: which of the two do you take to be the finest language?
Cleo. That is hard to determine: Nothing is more difficult than to compare the beauties of two languages together, because what is very much esteemed in the one, is often not relished at all in the other: In this point, the Pulchrum & Honestum varies, and is different every where, as the genius of the people differs. I do not set up for a judge, but what I have commonly observed in the two languages, is this: All favourite expressions in French, are such as either sooth or tickle; and nothing is more admired in English than what pierces or strikes.
Hor. Do you take yourself to be entirely impartial now?
Cleo. I think so; but if I am not, I do not know how to be sorry for it: There are some things in which it is the interest of the society that men should be biassed; and I do not think it amiss, that men should be inclined to love their own language, from the same principle that they love their country. The French call us barbarous, and we say they are fawning: I will not believe the first, let them believe what they please. Do you remember the six lines in the Cid, which Corneille is said to have had a present of six thousand livres for?
Hor. Very well.
Mon Pere est mort, Elvire, & la premiere Espee
Dont s’est arme Rodrigue a sa trame coupee.
Pleures, pleures mes yeux, & fondes vous en eau,