These are disquisitions which my father, who had laid in a great stock of knowledge of this kind, will be very busy with in the progress of my uncle _Toby_’s affairs: I must anticipate thus much, That from his theories of love, (with which, by the way, he contrived to crucify my uncle _Toby_’s mind, almost as much as his amours themselves,)—he took a single step into practice;—and by means of a camphorated cerecloth, which he found means to impose upon the taylor for buckram, whilst he was making my uncle _Toby_ a new pair of breeches, he produced _Gordonius_’s effect upon my uncle _Toby_ without the disgrace. What changes this produced, will be read in its proper place: all that is needful to be added to the anecdote, is this——That whatever effect it had upon my uncle _Toby_,——it had a vile effect upon the house;——and if my uncle _Toby_ had not smoaked it down as he did, it might have had a vile effect upon my father too. C H A P. LXXX ——’TWILL come out of itself by and bye.——All I contend for is, that I am not obliged to set out with a definition of what love is; and so long as I can go on with my story intelligibly, with the help of the word itself, without any other idea to it, than what I have in common with the rest of the world, why should I differ from it a moment before the time?——When I can get on no further,—and find myself entangled on all sides of this mystic labyrinth,—my Opinion will then come in, in course,—and lead me out. At present, I hope I shall be sufficiently understood, in telling the reader, my uncle _Toby fell in love:_ —Not that the phrase is at all to my liking: for to say a man is _fallen_ in love,—or that he is _deeply_ in love,—or up to the ears in love,—and sometimes even _over head and ears in it_,—carries an idiomatical kind of implication, that love is a thing _below_ a man:—this is recurring again to _Plato_’s opinion, which, with all his divinityship,—I hold to be damnable and heretical:—and so much for that. Let love therefore be what it will,—my uncle _Toby_ fell into it. ——And possibly, gentle reader, with such a temptation—so wouldst thou: For never did thy eyes behold, or thy concupiscence covet any thing in this world, more concupiscible than widow _Wadman._ C H A P. LXXXI TO conceive this right,—call for pen and ink—here’s paper ready to your hand.——Sit down, Sir, paint her to your own mind——as like your mistress as you can——as unlike your wife as your conscience will let you—’tis all one to me——please but your own fancy in it. ——Was ever any thing in Nature so sweet!—so exquisite! ——Then, dear Sir, how could my uncle _Toby_ resist it? Thrice happy book! thou wilt have one page, at least, within thy covers, which MALICE will not blacken, and which IGNORANCE cannot misrepresent. C H A P. LXXXII