who transforms Lucifer,
sometimes into a toad, and at others into a pygmy; who makes him
say the same thing over again a hundred times; who metamorphoses
him into a school-divine; and who, by an absurdly serious imitation
of Ariosto's comic invention of fire-arms, represents the devils
and angels cannonading each other in heaven! Neither I, nor any
other Italian, can possibly take pleasure in such melancholy
reveries. But the marriage of Sin and Death, and snakes issuing
from the womb of the former, are enough to make any person sick
that is not lost to all sense of delicacy. This obscene, whimsical,
and disagreeable poem met with the neglect that it deserved at its
first publication; and I only treat the author now as he was
treated in his own country by his contemporaries."

Candide was sensibly grieved at this speech, as he had a great
respect for Homer, and was very fond of Milton. "Alas!" said he
softly to Martin, "I am afraid this man holds our German poets in
great contempt."--"There would be no such great harm in that," said
Martin.--"Oh, what a surprising man!" said Candide to himself.
"What a prodigious genius is this Pococurante! Nothing can please
him."

After finishing their survey of the library they went down into the
garden, when Candide commended the several beauties that offered
themselves to his view. "I know nothing upon earth laid out in such
bad taste," said Pococurante; "every thing about it is childish and
trifling; but I shall have another laid out to-morrow upon a nobler
plan."

As soon as our two travellers had taken leave of his excellency,
"Well," said Candide to Martin, "I hope you will own that this man
is the happiest of all mortals, for he is above every thing he
possesses."--"But do you not see," answered Martin, "that he
likewise dislikes every thing he possesses? It was an observation
of Plato long since, that those are not the best stomachs that
reject, without distinction, all sorts of aliments."--"True," said
Candide; "but still, there must certainly be a pleasure in
criticising every thing, and in perceiving faults where others
think they see beauties."--"That is," replied Martin, "there is a
pleasure in having no pleasure."--"Well, well," said Candide, "I
find that I shall be the only happy man