Among all the Refiners of our Tongue, 'tis the vulgar Notion, that Sir _Roger L'Estrange_ was most eminent. True it is, Doctor _Felton_ owns he was good for nothing but _Banter_ and _Railing_; for that is what we in _England_ generally mean by Raillery. Tho' _Smith_ and _Johnson_ in the _Rehearsal_ are not the most lively Characters; yet their Dialogue with _Bayes_ is what the _French_ call _Raillery_. We in _England_ do mean very often the Dialogue of _Billinsgate_, where it is common enough to hear one Fish-Woman cry to another, _No more of your Raillery_, which is there the worst Sort of Railling; and for that and Banter the Doctor assures us _L'Estrange_ was most proper. The same say I, and that he understood no more of true Eloquence than he did of _Greek_, out of which the Booksellers hired him to translate _Josephus_, and he did it from the _French_ Translation. The Philosopher _Seneca_'s Works he pretended to translate from the _Latin_, and I wish Mr. _Trap_ would translate the following Phrases in his _Seneca_'s _Morals_ back into that Tongue again, _One good Turn is the shoeing Horn to another._ _He does me Good in spite of my Teeth._ _After a Matter of eight Years_; and this into _Greek_ for _Esop_'s Fables, The _Moon was in a heavy Twitter_: Yet I'm satisfied these fine Sayings are some of those that gained him the Reputation of being a polite Writer of _English_: I have heard that about the Moon very much commended, which shews that we are not sufficiently sensible how mean Words debase a Thought. _There's nothing_, says _Boileau_, _which debases a Discourse more than mean Words. A mean Thought exprest in noble Terms, is generally better than the most noble Thoughts exprest in mean Terms._ I know no greater Instance of the ill Effect of mean Terms, than what we find in two Verses of Mr. _Montague_'s Epistle to the Lord _Dorset_ on King _William_'s Victory at the _Boyne_. 'Tis in the greatest Heat of that glorious Action, and in the Middle of the _Sublime_, which is not wanting in that Poem. _Stop, stop, brave Prince! What does your Muse, Sir, faint! Proceed, pursue his Conquest. Faith I can't._ Mr. _Philips_'s Poems, the _splendid Shilling_ and _Cyder_, are full of Instances where mean Thoughts are raised by noble Expressions, and they are wonderfully pleasing; as in _Cyder_; this of the _Pear-Tree_.