NUMBER XIX.
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1710.
Sunt quibus in satira videar nimis acer, et ultra
Legem tendere opus: sine nervis altera quicquid
Composui pars esse putat
There are to whom too poignant I appear,
Beyond the laws of satire too severe.
My lines are weak, unsinewed, others say,
A man may spin a thousand such a day.
WHEN the printer came last week for his copy, he brought along with him a bundle of those papers, which, in the phrase of whig coffee houses, have swinged off the Examiner; most of which I had never seen or heard of before. I remember some time ago, in one of the Tatlers, to have read a letter, wherein several reasons are assigned for the present corruption and degeneracy of our taste; but I think the writer has omitted the principal one, which I take to be the prejudice of parties. Neither can I excuse either[1] side of this infirmity: I have heard the arrantest drivellers pro and con, commended for their shrewdness, even by men of tolerable judgement; and the best performances exploded as nonsense and stupidity. This indeed may partly be imputed to policy and prudence; but it is chiefly
- ↑ These two words of similar sound, 'neither' and 'either,' placed so near each other, produce a cacophony, easily to be avoided, by putting, 'nor,' in the place of 'neither,' as thus 'Nor can I accuse either side,' &c.
