In the former Instance, there's only a seeming Contrariety, which is built upon solid Truth; the latter approaches too near a Contradiction, I fear, indeed, it is one. To many of these elegant Fancies (among the Admirers of which Crowds of our modern Writers are desirous of being number'd) that Sneer of Martial may with much Justice be applied:
[203] Pauper videri Cinna vult, & est pauper.
Cinna's as really poor as he wou'd seem.
They are seeming Contradictions, and (strange as this new Species of Wit is) are in Reality what they seem: Or, if they deserve any better Name, they are an empty Sound of Words, meer Noise, and Nonsense.
Tho' the greatest Part of modern Wit turns entirely on this playing upon Words, I don't mean in Conversation only, (where these Trifles are hardly, very hardly tolerable) but even in the severest Writings, yet every Man of common Sense is so convinced of the Absurdity of prostituting it to the Abuse of Words, that I shall dwell no longer upon so disagreeable, so contemptible a Subject. I would only observe, that the Ancients are but little guilty of this Fault: That of Terence[204], Inceptio est amentium, haud amantium; and of Cicero, cited by Juvenal,
[205] O fortunatam, natam, me consule, Romam.
Fortune fortun'd the happy Day of Rome, When thou a Consul sole consol'd her Doom. Dryden.
and some others, tho' they consist of a Gingle, which I could wish such excellent Writers had wholly abstain'd from, yet they are not equivocal Expressions, nor do they contain a double Sense. Ovid's
[206] Injustaque justa peregit,
And solemniz'd the Death himself had wrought. Addison.