But What Can A Man See Of

We Had Some Port, And Drank Damnation To The Play And Eternal Remorse To The Author.

No, Sir, Claret Is The Liquor For Boys; Port For Men: But He Who Aspires To Be A Hero Must Drink Brandy. In The First Place Brandy Will Do Soonest For A Man What Drinking Can Do For Him.

I Suppose No Person Ever Enjoyed With More Relish The Infusion Of That Fragrant Leaf Than Johnson.

Addison Writes With The Ease Of A Gentleman. His Readers Fancy That A Wise And Accomplished Companion Is Talking To Them; So Thathe Insinuates His Sentiments And Taste Into Their Minds By An Imperceptible Influence. Johnson Writes Like A Teacher. He Dictates To His Readers As If From An Academical Chair. They Attend With Awe And Admiration; And His Precepts Are Impressed Upon Them By His Commanding Eloquence. Addison's Style, Like A Light Wine, Pleases Everybody From The First. Johnson's, Like A Liquor Of More Body, Seems Too Strong At First, But, By Degrees, Is Highly Relished.

Boswell, When He Speaks Of His Life Of Johnson, Calls It My Magnum Opus, But It May More Properly Be Called His Opera, For It Is Truly A Composition Founded On A True Story, In Which There Is A Hero With A Number Of Subordinate Characters, And An Alternate Succession Of Recitative And Airs Of Various Tone And Effect, All However In Delightful Animation.