The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy [216]
my uncle Toby did not love widow Wadman, there was nothing for widow Wadman to do, but to go on and love my uncle Toby--or let it alone.
Widow Wadman would do neither the one or the other.
--Gracious heaven!--but I forget I am a little of her temper myself; for whenever it so falls out, which it sometimes does about the equinoxes, that an earthly goddess is so much this, and that, and t'other, that I cannot eat my breakfast for her--and that she careth not three halfpence whether I eat my breakfast or no--
--Curse on her! and so I send her to Tartary, and from Tartary to Terra del Fuogo, and so on to the devil: in short, there is not an infernal nitch where I do not take her divinityship and stick it.
But as the heart is tender, and the passions in these tides ebb and flow ten times in a minute, I instantly bring her back again; and as I do all things in extremes, I place her in the very center of the milky-way--
Brightest of stars! thou wilt shed thy influence upon some one--
--The duce take her and her influence too--for at that word I lose all patience--much good may it do him!--By all that is hirsute and gashly! I cry, taking off my furr'd cap, and twisting it round my finger--I would not give sixpence for a dozen such!
--But 'tis an excellent cap too (putting it upon my head, and pressing it close to my ears)--and warm--and soft; especially if you stroke it the right way--but alas! that will never be my luck--(so here my philosophy is shipwreck'd again.)
--No; I shall never have a finger in the pye (so here I break my metaphor)- -
Crust and Crumb Inside and out Top and bottom--I detest it, I hate it, I repudiate it--I'm sick at the sight of it--
'Tis all pepper, garlick, staragen, salt, and devil's dung--by the great arch-cooks of cooks, who does nothing, I think, from morning to night, but sit down by the fire-side and invent inflammatory dishes for us, I would not touch it for the world--
--O Tristram! Tristram! cried Jenny.
O Jenny! Jenny! replied I, and so went on with the thirty-sixth chapter.
Chapter 4.XXXVI.
--'Not touch it for the world,' did I say--
Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!
Chapter 4.XXXVII.
Which shews, let your reverences and worships say what you will of it (for as for thinking--all who do think--think pretty much alike both upon it and other matters)--Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most A gitating B ewitching C onfounded D evilish affairs of life--the most E xtravagant F utilitous G alligaskinish H andy-dandyish I racundulous (there is no K to it) and L yrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most M isgiving N innyhammering O bstipating P ragmatical S tridulous R idiculous--though by the bye the R should have gone first--But in short 'tis of such a nature, as my father once told my uncle Toby upon the close of a long dissertation upon the subject--'You can scarce,' said he, 'combine two ideas together upon it, brother Toby, without an hypallage'-- What's that? cried my uncle Toby.
The cart before the horse, replied my father--
--And what is he to do there? cried my uncle Toby.
Nothing, quoth my father, but to get in--or let it alone.
Now widow Wadman, as I told you before, would do neither the one or the other.
She stood however ready harnessed and caparisoned at all points, to watch accidents.
Chapter 4.XXXVIII.
The Fates, who certainly all fore-knew of these amours of widow Wadman and my uncle Toby, had, from the first creation of matter and motion (and with more courtesy than they usually do things of this kind), established such a chain of causes and effects hanging so fast to one another, that it was scarce possible for my uncle Toby to have dwelt in any other house in the world, or to have occupied any other garden in Christendom, but the very house and garden which join'd and laid parallel to Mrs. Wadman's; this, with the advantage of a thickset arbour in Mrs. Wadman's garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my uncle Toby's, put all the occasions
Widow Wadman would do neither the one or the other.
--Gracious heaven!--but I forget I am a little of her temper myself; for whenever it so falls out, which it sometimes does about the equinoxes, that an earthly goddess is so much this, and that, and t'other, that I cannot eat my breakfast for her--and that she careth not three halfpence whether I eat my breakfast or no--
--Curse on her! and so I send her to Tartary, and from Tartary to Terra del Fuogo, and so on to the devil: in short, there is not an infernal nitch where I do not take her divinityship and stick it.
But as the heart is tender, and the passions in these tides ebb and flow ten times in a minute, I instantly bring her back again; and as I do all things in extremes, I place her in the very center of the milky-way--
Brightest of stars! thou wilt shed thy influence upon some one--
--The duce take her and her influence too--for at that word I lose all patience--much good may it do him!--By all that is hirsute and gashly! I cry, taking off my furr'd cap, and twisting it round my finger--I would not give sixpence for a dozen such!
--But 'tis an excellent cap too (putting it upon my head, and pressing it close to my ears)--and warm--and soft; especially if you stroke it the right way--but alas! that will never be my luck--(so here my philosophy is shipwreck'd again.)
--No; I shall never have a finger in the pye (so here I break my metaphor)- -
Crust and Crumb Inside and out Top and bottom--I detest it, I hate it, I repudiate it--I'm sick at the sight of it--
'Tis all pepper, garlick, staragen, salt, and devil's dung--by the great arch-cooks of cooks, who does nothing, I think, from morning to night, but sit down by the fire-side and invent inflammatory dishes for us, I would not touch it for the world--
--O Tristram! Tristram! cried Jenny.
O Jenny! Jenny! replied I, and so went on with the thirty-sixth chapter.
Chapter 4.XXXVI.
--'Not touch it for the world,' did I say--
Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!
Chapter 4.XXXVII.
Which shews, let your reverences and worships say what you will of it (for as for thinking--all who do think--think pretty much alike both upon it and other matters)--Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most A gitating B ewitching C onfounded D evilish affairs of life--the most E xtravagant F utilitous G alligaskinish H andy-dandyish I racundulous (there is no K to it) and L yrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most M isgiving N innyhammering O bstipating P ragmatical S tridulous R idiculous--though by the bye the R should have gone first--But in short 'tis of such a nature, as my father once told my uncle Toby upon the close of a long dissertation upon the subject--'You can scarce,' said he, 'combine two ideas together upon it, brother Toby, without an hypallage'-- What's that? cried my uncle Toby.
The cart before the horse, replied my father--
--And what is he to do there? cried my uncle Toby.
Nothing, quoth my father, but to get in--or let it alone.
Now widow Wadman, as I told you before, would do neither the one or the other.
She stood however ready harnessed and caparisoned at all points, to watch accidents.
Chapter 4.XXXVIII.
The Fates, who certainly all fore-knew of these amours of widow Wadman and my uncle Toby, had, from the first creation of matter and motion (and with more courtesy than they usually do things of this kind), established such a chain of causes and effects hanging so fast to one another, that it was scarce possible for my uncle Toby to have dwelt in any other house in the world, or to have occupied any other garden in Christendom, but the very house and garden which join'd and laid parallel to Mrs. Wadman's; this, with the advantage of a thickset arbour in Mrs. Wadman's garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my uncle Toby's, put all the occasions