air of being
proved, to the entire satisfaction of some future ape, to have been,
without exception, the profoundest divine and metaphysician that ever yet
held a pen.

_Lucian_.--I shall rejoice to see you advanced to that honour. But in
the meantime I may take the liberty to consider you as one of our class.
There you sit very high.

_Rabelais_.--I am afraid there is another, and a modern author too, whom
you would bid to sit above me, and but just below yourself--I mean Dr.
Swift.

_Lucian_.--It was not necessary for him to throw so much nonsense into
his history of Lemuel Gulliver as you did into that of your two
illustrious heroes; and his style is far more correct than yours. His
wit never descended, as yours frequently did, into the lowest of taverns,
nor ever wore the meanest garb of the vulgar.

_Rabelais_.--If the garb which it wore was not as mean, I am certain it
was sometimes as dirty as mine.

_Lucian_.--It was not always nicely clean; yet, in comparison with you,
he was decent and elegant. But whether there was not in your
compositions more fire, and a more comic spirit, I will not determine.

_Rabelais_.--If you will not determine it, e'en let it remain a matter in
dispute, as I have left the great question, Whether Panurge should marry
or not? I would as soon undertake to measure the difference between the
height and bulk of the giant Gargantua and his Brobdignagian Majesty, as
the difference of merit between my writings and Swift's. If any man
takes a fancy to like my book, let him freely enjoy the entertainment it
gives him, and drink to my memory in a bumper. If another likes
Gulliver, let him toast Dr. Swift. Were I upon earth I would pledge him
in a bumper, supposing the wine to be good. If a third likes neither of
us, let him silently pass the bottle and be quiet.

_Lucian_.--But what if he will not be quiet? A critic is an unquiet
creature.

_Rabelais_.--Why, then he will disturb himself, not me.

_Lucian_.--You are a greater philosopher than I thought you. I knew you
paid no respect to Popes or kings, but to pay none to critics is, in an
author, a magnanimity beyond all example.

_Rabelais_.--My life was a farce; my death was a farce; and would you
have me make my book a serious affair? As for you, though in general you
are only a joker, yet sometimes you must be ranked among grave authors.
You have written sage and learned dissertations on history and other
weighty matte