that he had made them fall asleep,
and yet that they could not well avoid giving him a place in their
libraries; but that it was merely as they would do an antique, or
those rusty medals which are kept only for curiosity, and are of no
manner of use in commerce."

"But your excellency does not surely form the same opinion of
Virgil?" said Candide. "Why, I grant," replied Pococurante, "that
the second, third, fourth, and sixth books of his 'AEneid' are
excellent; but as for his pious AEneas, his strong Cloanthus, his
friendly Achates, his boy Ascanius, his silly King Latinus, his
ill-bred Amata, his insipid Lavinia, and some other characters much
in the same strain, I think there cannot in nature be any thing
more flat and disagreeable. I must confess I prefer Tasso far
beyond him; nay, even that sleepy tale-teller Ariosto."

"May I take the liberty to ask if you do not receive great pleasure
from reading Horace?" said Candide. "There are maxims in this
writer," replied Pococurante, "from whence a man of the world may
reap some benefit; and the short measure of the verse makes them
more easily to be retained in the memory. But I see nothing
extraordinary in his journey to Brundusium, and his account of his
bad dinner; nor in his dirty, low quarrel between one Rupilius,
whose words, as he expresses it, were full of poisonous filth; and
another, whose language was dipped in vinegar. His indelicate
verses against old women and witches have frequently given me great
offence; nor can I discover the great merit of his telling his
friend Maecenas, that, if he will but rank him in the class of lyric
poets, his lofty head shall touch the stars. Ignorant readers are
apt to advance every thing by the lump in a writer of reputation.
For my part, I read only to please myself. I like nothing but what
makes for my purpose." Candide, who had been brought up with a
notion of never making use of his own judgment, was astonished at
what he heard; but Martin found there was a good deal of reason in
the senator's remarks.

"Oh, here is a Tully!" said Candide; "this great man, I fancy, you
are never tired of reading."--"Indeed, I never read him at all,"
replied Pococurante. "What a deuce is it to me whether he pleads
for Rabirius or Cluentius? I try causes enough