Of ſome Spaniſh, Italian, and French Books.
THE delicacy of Love sooths me, and its tenderness touches me; and as in Spain they love the best of any Country in the world, I am never weary of reading in their Authors amorous Adventures. I am more affected with the passion of one of their Lovers, than I should be with my own, were I yet capable of any. The very imagination of those Amours raises in me certain motions for the Gallant, which I could never feel for my self. There is, perhaps, as much Wit in the other writings of that Nation, as in ours; but it is a kind of wit that gives no satisfaction, except that of Cervantes in Don Quixot, which I could read all my life, without being disgusted one single moment. Of all the Books I ever read, Don Quixot is that of which I shou'd be most ambitious to have been the Author. Nothing, in my opinion, can contribute more to the forming in us a true taste of every thing. I wonder how Cervantes cou'd, as it were out of the mouth of one of the greatest Fools in the world, shew himself master of all the understanding and knowledge imaginable. I admire the variety of his Characters, which are of the most uncommon stamp in the world, and at the same time the most natural. Quevedo, indeed, appears a very ingenious Author; but I esteem him more for his thought of burning all his own Books when he read Don Quixot, than for having been able to compose 'em.
