Even Plutarch himself laments his daughter for the little apish tricks… — Essays
SAPIR 861
Even Plutarch himself laments his daughter for the little apish tricks of her infancy.--[Consolation to his Wife on the Death of their Daughter, c. I.]--The remembrance of a farewell, of the particular grace of an action, of a last recommendation, afflict us. The sight of Caesar's robe troubled all Rome, which was more than his death had done. Even the sound of names ringing in our ears, as "my poor master,"--"my faithful friend,"--"alas, my dear father," or, "my sweet daughter," afflict us. When these repetitions annoy me, and that I examine it a little nearer, I find 'tis no other but a grammatical and word complaint; I am only wounded with the word and tone, as the exclamations of preachers very often work more upon their auditory than their reasons, and as the pitiful eyes of a beast killed for our service; without my weighing or penetrating meanwhile into the true and solid essence
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