Now as widow _Wadman_ did love my uncle _Toby_----and 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 centre 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-cook 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 twelfth chapter.
Now as widow Wadman loved my uncle Toby, and my uncle Toby did not love widow Wadman, there was nothing for widow Wadman to do but to go on loving my uncle Toby - or let it alone.
She would do neither the one nor the other.
- Gracious heaven! - but I forget I am a little of her temper myself; for whenever it happens that an earthly goddess is so much this, that, and t'other, that I cannot eat my breakfast - and she cares 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 Fuego, and so on to the devil: in short, there is not an infernal niche where I do not take her divinityship and stick it.
But as the heart is tender, and its passions ebb and flow ten times a minute, I instantly bring her back again; and as I do all things in extremes, I place her in the very centre of the milky-way-
Brightest of stars! shed thy influence upon someone-
'The deuce take her and her influence too - much good may it do him! - By all that is hairy and gashly!' I cry, taking off my furred cap, and twisting it round my finger. 'I would not give sixpence for a dozen such!
'But 'tis an excellent cap (putting it upon my head,) - and warm, and soft; especially if you stroke it the right way - but alas! that will never be my luck.
'No; I shall never have a finger in the pie' (so here I break my metaphor)-
'Crust and Crumb
'Inside and out
'Top and bottom - I detest it, I hate it, I'm sick at the sight of it-
''Tis all pepper,
garlic,
salt, and
devil's dung - I would not touch it for the world-'
'O Tristram! Tristram!' cried Jenny.
'O Jenny! Jenny!' replied I, and so went on with the twelfth chapter.
Book 8 - Chapter 11