["Who by their fondness of some fine sounding word, are tempted to
     something they had no intention to treat of.”—­Seneca, Ep., 59.]

I for my part rather bring in a fine sentence by head and shoulders to fit my purpose, than divert my designs to hunt after a sentence.  On the contrary, words are to serve, and to follow a man’s purpose; and let Gascon come in play where French will not do.  I would have things so excelling, and so wholly possessing the imagination of him that hears, that he should have something else to do, than to think of words.  The way of speaking that I love, is natural and plain, the same in writing as in speaking, and a sinewy and muscular way of expressing a man’s self, short and pithy, not so elegant and artificial as prompt and vehement;

“Haec demum sapiet dictio, qux feriet;”

     ["That has most weight and wisdom which pierces the ear.” ("That
     utterance indeed will have a taste which shall strike the ear.”)
     —­Epitaph on Lucan, in Fabricius, Biblioth.  Lat., ii. 10.]

rather hard than wearisome; free from affectation; irregular, incontinuous, and bold; where every piece makes up an entire body; not like a pedant, a preacher, or a pleader, but rather a soldier-like style, as Suetonius calls that of Julius Caesar; and yet I see no reason why he should call it so.  I have ever been ready to imitate the negligent garb, which is yet observable amongst the young men of our time, to wear my cloak on one shoulder, my cap on one side, a stocking in disorder, which seems to express a kind of haughty disdain of these exotic ornaments, and a contempt of the artificial; but I find this negligence of much better use in the form of speaking.  All affectation, particularly in the French gaiety and freedom, is ungraceful in a courtier, and in a monarchy every gentleman ought to be fashioned according to the court model; for which reason, an easy and natural negligence does well.  I no more like a web where the knots and seams are to be seen, than a fine figure, so delicate, that a man may tell all the bones and veins: 

     “Quae veritati operam dat oratio, incomposita sit et simplex.”

     ["Let the language that is dedicated to truth be plain and
     unaffected.—­Seneca, Ep. 40.]

          “Quis accurat loquitur, nisi qui vult putide loqui?”

     ["For who studies to speak accurately, that does not at the same
     time wish to perplex his auditory?”—­Idem, Ep., 75.]

That eloquence prejudices the subject it would advance, that wholly attracts us to itself.  And as in our outward habit, ’tis a ridiculous effeminacy to distinguish ourselves by a particular and unusual garb or fashion; so in language, to study new phrases, and to affect words that are not of current use, proceeds from a puerile and scholastic ambition.  May I be bound to speak no other language than what is spoken in the market-places of Paris!  Aristophanes