e same, yet
so much alike, that they might be known to be sisters;"

--facies non omnibus una,
Nec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum.

The reason is, that the same passions give action and animation to them
all. With respect to the comedies of Aristophanes and Plautus, Menander
and Terence, Moliere and his imitators, if we compare them one with
another, we shall find something of a family likeness, but much less
strongly marked, on account of the different appearance which ridicule
and pleasantry take from the different manners of every age. They will
not pass for sisters, but for very distant relations. The Muse of
Aristophanes and Plautus, to speak of her with justice, is a bacchanal
at least, whose malignant tongue is dipped in gall, or in poison
dangerous as that of the aspick or viper; but whose bursts of malice,
and sallies of wit, often give a blow where it is not expected. The Muse
of Terence, and, consequently, of Menander, is an artless and unpainted
beauty, of easy gaiety, whose features are rather delicate than
striking, rather soft than strong, rather plain and modest than great
and haughty, but always perfectly natural:

Ce n'est pas un portrait, une image semblable:
C'est un fils, un amant, un pere veritable.

The Muse of Moliere is not always plainly dressed, but takes airs of
quality, and rises above her original condition, so as to attire herself
gracefully in magnificent apparel. In her manners she mingles elegance
with foolery, force with delicacy and grandeur, or even haughtiness with
plainness and modesty. If, sometimes, to please the people, she gives a
loose to farce, it is only the gay folly of a moment, from which she
immediately returns, and which lasts no longer than a slight
intoxication. The first might be painted encircled with little satyrs,
some grossly foolish, the others delicate, but all extremely licentious
and malignant; monkeys always ready to laugh in your face, and to point
out to indiscriminate ridicule, the good and the bad. The second may be
shown encircled with geniuses full of softness and of candour, taught to
please by nature alone, and whose honeyed dialect is so much the more
insinuating, as there is no temptation to distrust it. The last must be
accompanied with the delicate laughter of the court, and that of the
city somewhat more coarse, and neither the one nor the other can be
separated from her. The Muse of Aristophanes and of Plautus can