Small curses, Dr. _Slop_, upon great occasions, quoth my father (condoling with him first upon the accident), are but so much waste of our strength and soul's health to no manner of purpose. --I own it, replied Dr. _Slop_. --They are like sparrow-shot, quoth my uncle _Toby_ (suspending his whistling), fired against a bastion. ----They serve, continued my father, to stir the humours----but carry off none of their acrimony: --for my own part, I seldom swear or curse at all --I hold it bad----but if I fall into it by surprize, I generally retain so much presence of mind (right, quoth my uncle _Toby_) as to make it answer my purpose----that is, I swear on till I find myself easy. A wise and a just man however would always endeavour to proportion the vent given to these humours, not only to the degree of them stirring within himself--but to the size and ill intent of the offence upon which they are to fall. --"_Injuries come only from the heart_," --quoth my uncle _Toby_. For this reason, continued my father, with the most _Cervantick_ gravity, I have the greatest veneration in the world for that gentleman, who, in distrust of his own discretion in this point, sat down and composed (that is at his leisure) fit forms of swearing suitable to all cases, from the lowest to the highest provocation which could possibly happen to him----which forms being well considered by him, and such moreover as he could stand to, he kept them ever by him on the chimney-piece, within his reach, ready for use. --I never apprehended, replied Dr. _Slop_, that such a thing was ever thought of----much less executed. I beg your pardon, answered my father; I was reading, though not using, one of them to my brother _Toby_ this morning, whilst he pour'd out the tea--'tis here upon the shelf over my head; --but if I remember right, 'tis too violent for a cut of the thumb. --Not at all, quoth Dr. _Slop_--the devil take the fellow. 
'Small curses, Dr. Slop, upon great occasions,' quoth he, 'are a waste of our strength to no purpose.'
'I know,' replied Dr. Slop.
'They are like sparrow-shot,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'fired against a bastion.'
'They serve,' continued my father, 'to stir the temper - not relieve it: for my own part, I seldom curse at all. I think it bad - but if I fall into it by surprise, I generally keep enough presence of mind to make it answer my purpose - that is, I swear on till I find myself easy. A wise man, however, would always try to vent these humours in proportion to the size and ill intent of the offence.'
'Injuries come only from the heart,' quoth my uncle Toby.
'For this reason,' continued my father, with the most Cervantick gravity, 'I have the greatest respect for that gentleman who sat down and composed fit forms of swearing suitable for all cases, from the lowest to the highest provocation. He kept these forms by him on the chimney-piece, within his reach, ready for use.'
'I never knew,' replied Dr. Slop, 'that such a thing was ever thought of.'
'I beg your pardon,' answered my father; 'I was reading, though not using, one of them to my brother Toby this morning, whilst he poured out the tea - 'tis here upon the shelf; but if I remember right, 'tis too violent for a cut of the thumb.'
'Not at all,' quoth Dr. Slop; 'the devil take the fellow.'
