----I am half distracted, captain _Shandy_, said Mrs. _Wadman_, holding up her cambrick handkerchief to her left eye, as she approach'd the door of my uncle _Toby's_ sentry-box----a mote----or sand----or something ----I know not what, has got into this eye of mine----do look into it--it is not in the white--
In saying which, Mrs. _Wadman_ edged herself close in beside my uncle _Toby_, and squeezing herself down upon the corner of his bench, she gave him an opportunity of doing it without rising up ----Do look into it--said she.
Honest soul! thou didst look into it with as much innocency of heart, as ever child look'd into a raree-shew-box; and 'twere as much a sin to have hurt thee.
----If a man will be peeping of his own accord into things of that nature ----I've nothing to say to it----
My uncle _Toby_ never did: and I will answer for him, that he would have sat quietly upon a sofa from _June_ to _January_ (which, you know, takes in both the hot and cold months), with an eye as fine as the _Thracian_[8.4] _Rodope's_ beside him, without being able to tell, whether it was a black or blue one.
The difficulty was to get my uncle _Toby_ to look at one at all.
'Tis surmounted. And
I see him yonder with his pipe pendulous in his hand, and the ashes falling out of it--looking--and looking--then rubbing his eyes--and looking again, with twice the good-nature that ever _Gallileo_ look'd for a spot in the sun.
----In vain! for by all the powers which animate the organ ----Widow _Wadman's_ left eye shines this moment as lucid as her right----there is neither mote, or sand, or dust, or chaff, or speck, or particle of opake matter floating in it --There is nothing, my dear paternal uncle! but one lambent delicious fire, furtively shooting out from every part of it, in all directions, into thine----
----If thou lookest, uncle _Toby_, in search of this mote one moment longer----thou art undone.
[Footnote 8.4: _Rodope Thracia_ tam inevitabili fascino instructa, tam exact oculus intuens attraxit, ut si in illam quis incidisset, fieri non posset, quin caperetur. ----I know not who.]
'I am half distracted, captain Shandy,' said Mrs. Wadman, holding up her handkerchief to her left eye, as she approached the door of the sentry-box. 'A mote - or sand - or something - has got into my eye - do look into it.'
In saying which, Mrs. Wadman edged herself close in beside my uncle Toby, and squeezed herself upon the corner of his bench. 'Do look into it,' said she.
Honest soul! thou didst look into it with as much innocence as a child; and 'twere as much a sin to have hurt thee.
I will answer for my uncle Toby, that he would have sat quietly upon a sofa from June to January, with an eye as fine as the Thracian Rodope's beside him, without being able to tell whether it was black or blue.
The difficulty was to get my uncle Toby to look at an eye at all.
'Tis surmounted. And
I see him with his pipe in his hand, and the ashes falling out of it - looking and looking again, with twice the good-nature that ever Galileo looked for a spot in the sun.
In vain! for Widow Wadman's left eye shines as lucid as her right - there is neither mote, or sand, or dust, or speck floating in it. - Nothing, my dear uncle! but one delicious fire, furtively shooting out from it, into thine-
If thou lookest, uncle Toby, one moment longer - thou art undone.
Book 8 - Chapter 24