"Remember likewise there are persons who love fewer words, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though of too still and composed tempers for you"
About this Quote
Butler’s line is a gentle reprimand dressed up as etiquette: a reminder that verbosity can be a kind of social aggression. He isn’t praising silence as moral superiority so much as arguing for a civic courtesy in conversation - an early 18th-century plea for rhetorical self-control. In the world Butler inhabited, talk was status: the drawing room, the pulpit, the pamphlet. To “love fewer words” reads, at first, like a minor preference. Butler makes it a matter of regard. If you dominate the air, you don’t merely bore people; you fail them.
The phrase “inoffensive sort of people” is slyly double-edged. It sounds condescending, but it also protects the quiet. The subtext is that the composed, restrained temperament is socially vulnerable: not weak, just outgunned. Butler’s “deserve some regard” frames attention as something owed, not won by force of personality. That’s the cleric’s moral instinct showing: manners as ethics, conversation as a test of humility.
Then comes the sting: “though of too still and composed tempers for you.” That “for you” turns the lesson personal. It implies a particular audience - the talkative, performative, perhaps self-satisfied speaker who mistakes speed and quantity for intelligence. Butler isn’t outlawing eloquence; he’s insisting that speech should have an audience, not just an outlet. The line works because it flatters no one: it dignifies the quiet without romanticizing them, and it chastises the loud without outright condemnation. It’s restraint as a social virtue, delivered with the calm firmness of someone used to being listened to.
The phrase “inoffensive sort of people” is slyly double-edged. It sounds condescending, but it also protects the quiet. The subtext is that the composed, restrained temperament is socially vulnerable: not weak, just outgunned. Butler’s “deserve some regard” frames attention as something owed, not won by force of personality. That’s the cleric’s moral instinct showing: manners as ethics, conversation as a test of humility.
Then comes the sting: “though of too still and composed tempers for you.” That “for you” turns the lesson personal. It implies a particular audience - the talkative, performative, perhaps self-satisfied speaker who mistakes speed and quantity for intelligence. Butler isn’t outlawing eloquence; he’s insisting that speech should have an audience, not just an outlet. The line works because it flatters no one: it dignifies the quiet without romanticizing them, and it chastises the loud without outright condemnation. It’s restraint as a social virtue, delivered with the calm firmness of someone used to being listened to.
Quote Details
| Topic | Respect |
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