pleasantry of wit which strikes so lively on the fancy, and is
therefore so acceptable to all people."

This is, I think, the best and most philosophical account that I
have ever met with of wit, which generally, though not always,
consists in such a resemblance and congruity of ideas as this author
mentions. I shall only add to it, by way of explanation, that every
resemblance of ideas is not that which we call wit, unless it be
such an one that gives delight and surprise to the reader. These
two properties seem essential to wit, more particularly the last of
them. In order, therefore, that the resemblance in the ideas be
wit, it is necessary that the ideas should not lie too near one
another in the nature of things; for, where the likeness is obvious,
it gives no surprise. To compare one man's singing to that of
another, or to represent the whiteness of any object by that of milk
and snow, or the variety of its colours by those of the rainbow,
cannot be called wit, unless, besides this obvious resemblance,
there be some further congruity discovered in the two ideas that is
capable of giving the reader some surprise. Thus, when a poet tells
us the bosom of his mistress is as white as snow, there is no wit in
the comparison; but when he adds, with a sigh, it is as cold too, it
then grows into wit. Every reader's memory may supply him with
innumerable instances of the same nature. For this reason, the
similitudes in heroic poets, who endeavour rather to fill the mind
with great conceptions than to divert it with such as are new and
surprising, have seldom anything in them that can be called wit.
Mr. Locke's account of wit, with this short explanation, comprehends
most of the species of wit, as metaphors, similitudes, allegories,
enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, dreams, visions, dramatic
writings, burlesque, and all the methods of allusion: as there are