etween puns and true wit by any
of the ancient authors, except Quintilian and Longinus. But when this
distinction was once settled, it was very natural for all men of sense to
agree in it. As for the revival of this false wit, it happened about the
time of the revival of letters; but as soon as it was once detected, it
immediately vanished and disappeared. At the same time there is no
question but, as it has sunk in one age and rose in another, it will
again recover itself in some distant period of time, as pedantry and
ignorance shall prevail upon wit and sense. And, to speak the truth, I
do very much apprehend, by some of the last winter's productions, which
had their sets of admirers, that our posterity will in a few years
degenerate into a race of punsters: at least, a man may be very excusable
for any apprehensions of this kind, that has seen acrostics handed about
the town with great secresy and applause; to which I must also add a
little epigram called the "Witches' Prayer," that fell into verse when it
was read either backward or forward, excepting only that it cursed one
way, and blessed the other. When one sees there are actually such
painstakers among our British wits, who can tell what it may end in? If
we must lash one another, let it be with the manly strokes of wit and
satire: for I am of the old philosopher's opinion, that, if I must suffer
from one or the other, I would rather it should be from the paw of a lion
than from the hoof of an ass. I do not speak this out of any spirit of
party. There is a most crying dulness on both sides. I have seen Tory
acrostics and Whig anagrams, and do not quarrel with either of them
because they are Whigs or Tories, but because they are anagrams and
acrostics.

But to return to punning. Having pursued the history of a pun, from its
original to its downfall, I shall here define it to be a conceit arising
from the use of two words that agree in the sound, but differ in the
sense. The only way, therefore, to try a piece of wit is to translate it
into a different language. If it bears the test, you may pronounce it
true; but if it vanishes in the experiment, you may conclude it to have
been a pun. In short, one may say of a pun, as the countryman described
his nightingale, that it is "_vox et praeterea nihil_"--"a sound, and
nothing but a sound." On the contrary, one may represent true wit by the
description which Aristaenetus makes of a fine woman:--"When she