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of which they themselves do not pretend to explain the Meaning; there, I confefs, I am left behind, and referve my Rapture, till I receive my Conviction.

For tell me, Philocles, what is this Delicacy, either in the Arts or Conduct of Life, which you are conftantly extolling in fuch high Strains, and with fuch an Air of Earneftnefs, as if you were perfuaded that there is fomething in it real and substantial?

Philocles was going to reply; when a Servant informed them that Supper was upon the Table. However, in their Way to the House, he took Occasion, from the beautiful Scenes they paffed, to throw out fome general Reflexions in Support of his favourite Doctrine: for he was determined to omit no Opportunity of drawing his Friend into the Love and Study of Refinement; the Difregard to which Accomplishment, he looked upon as the chief Deficiency in the Character of Sophronius.

DIALOGUE

DIALOGUE II.

A

S Sophronius is an early rifer, he was amufing himself in the Library, before Philocles was yet stirring. But his Friend, perceiving it now Day, foon followed him thither, being unwilling to lose any Opportunity of enjoying a Converfation, in which he found himself often inftructed, and always entertained.

How happy (faid Philocles entering the Room) how happy would it be for the fashionable World, were they as well acquainted with this fweet Hour of "Prime," as you, Sophronius, are, who feldom suffer the Sun to rife upon you in Bed!

Rather, replied Sophronius, how much happier would it be for the World in general, would certain active Spirits be perfuaded to flumber Life away! fince they wake but to purfue their Ambition, or vent their Impertinences, and rife only to embroil or mislead Mankind.

Undoubtedly, faid Philocles, if many of those, whose Actions fill our Hiftories, or whofe Specula

4

tions

Dial. II. tions fwell our Libraries, had paffed their whole Lives in profound Sleep; the World would have been obliged to them for their Repofe, but can only now lament that they were ever awake.

(continued he) a

I was reading the other Day Treatife upon Bees: The ingenious Author, fpeaking of the dormant State of Infects, mentions an Experiment he had made, of extending that Period of their Exiftence far beyond its ufual Duration, even to fome Years. If this Philofopher could fo improve his Experiment, as to make it applicable to his own Species, might not the Discovery be turned to very fingular Advantage?

For my own Part, returned Sophronius, were I Mafter of fuch a Secret, I would rather apply it to the mistaken Speculatiit, than the falfly ambitious. The Sons of Turbulence can only affect their unfortunate Contemporaries; and the Mischief they do, generally ends with their Lives. But the Puzzlers and Perverters of Truth and Science are pernicious, perhaps, to feveral Generations, and difturb the Repofe of the World, many Ages after they themselves are removed out of it. The firft Effay, I would make of my foporific Art in the literary World, fhould be upon the Critics, a Tribe of Mortals, in the Republic of Letters, more fubverfive of its Peace and Intereft, than▬▬

Hold, good Sophronius! I doubt, your Censure is now growing too general. Some low and petulant

Spirits

Spirits, I confefs, have brought a Reproach upon the Name of Critic; but the Art in itself certainly deferves Efteem. No Man can poffefs that Talent in its true Extent, or exercise it to full Advantage, without being Mafter of fomething much more valuable than Ariftotle or Longinus can teach him. He muft have a certain quick Feeling of Delicacy in Arts and Manners; which no Rules will ever be able to impart, where Nature has denied.

Hardly, Philocles, will you be able to bring me over to more favourable Sentiments of this Criticscience, by making Delicacy a neceffary Ingredient. For by all that I could ever difcover of the true Effence of that Quality, as it is applied either to the Operations of Art, or the Conduct of Manners, it owes its whole Existence entirely to Fancy; and when I hear a Man recommended as a Critic of great Delicacy, I immediately conclude him a Perfon of high Enthufiafm.

Do you really think then, Sophronius, that Delicacy, whether confidered as a Faculty of the Mind, or as an Effect of Art, is nothing more than the Raptures of warm Imagination, entirely unfupported by any Principles of Reafon?

I will not venture to pronounce, answered Sophronius, of the Clearnefs of other Men's Ideas; and, perhaps, the nice Refiners in Tafte and Genius may have Conceptions, to which common Language cannot fupply adequate Terms. But of this I am fure: whenever

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