THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY, GENT. CHAP. I. -I think I faid, I would write two volumes every year, provided the vile cough, which then tormented me, and which to this hour I dread worfe than the Devil, would but give me leave; and in another place-(but where, I can't recollect now) fpeaking of my book as a machine, and laying my pen and ruler down cross-wife upon the table, in order to gain the greater credit to it,-I fwore it should be kept a-going at that rate these forty years, if it pleased but the Fountain of Life to blefs me fo long with health and good fpirits. Now, as for my fpirits, little have I to lay to their charge, nay, fo very little (unless the mounting me upon a long ftick and playing the fool with me nineteen hours out of the twentyfour, be accufations) that on the contrary, I have much, much to thank 'em for. Cheerly VOL. II. G have have ye made me tread the path of life with all the burdens of it (except its cares) upon my back: in no one moment of my existence, that I remember, have ye once deferted me, or tinged the objects which came in my way, either with fable, or with a fickly green: in dangers ye gilded my horizon with hope; and when Death himself knocked at my door,-ye bade him come again; and in fo gay a tone of careless indifference did ye do it, that he doubted of his commiffion. "There muft certainly be fome mistake in this matter," quoth he. Now there is nothing in this world I abominate worse than to be interrupted in a ftory;and I was that moment telling Eugenius a moft tawdry one, in my way, of a nun who fancied herfelf a fhell-fifh; and of a monk damn'd for eating a muscle; and was fhewing him the grounds and juftice of the procedure. ---Did ever fo grave a perfonage get into "fo vile a fcrape?" "quoth Death.-Thou haft had a narrow efcape, Triftram, faid Eugenius, taking hold of my hand as I finished my ftory. But there is no living, Eugenius, replied I, at this rate; for as this fon of a whore has found out my lodgings, You call him rightly, faid Eugenius;— for by fin, we are told, he enter'd the world1 care not which way he enter'd, quoth I, provided he be not in fuch a hurry to take me out with him, for I have forty volumes to write, and forty thoufand things to fay and do, which no |