, an' please your worships, that the more I write, the more I
shall have to write--and consequently, the more your worships read, the
more your worships will have to read.

Will this be good for your worships eyes?

It will do well for mine; and, was it not that my Opinions will be
the death of me, I perceive I shall lead a fine life of it out of this
self-same life of mine; or, in other words, shall lead a couple of fine
lives together.

As for the proposal of twelve volumes a year, or a volume a month, it
no way alters my prospect--write as I will, and rush as I may into
the middle of things, as Horace advises--I shall never overtake myself
whipp'd and driven to the last pinch; at the worst I shall have one
day the start of my pen--and one day is enough for two volumes--and two
volumes will be enough for one year.--

Heaven prosper the manufacturers of paper under this propitious reign,
which is now opened to us--as I trust its providence will prosper every
thing else in it that is taken in hand.

As for the propagation of Geese--I give myself no concern--Nature is
all-bountiful--I shall never want tools to work with.

--So then, friend! you have got my father and my uncle Toby off the
stairs, and seen them to bed?--And how did you manage it?--You dropp'd a
curtain at the stair-foot--I thought you had no other way for it--Here's
a crown for your trouble.

Chapter 2.XLIX.

--Then reach me my breeches off the chair, said my father to
Susannah.--There is not a moment's time to dress you, Sir, cried
Susannah--the child is as black in the face as my--As your what? said
my father, for like all orators, he was a dear searcher into
comparisons.--Bless, me, Sir, said Susannah, the child's in a fit.--And
where's Mr. Yorick?--Never where he should be, said Susannah, but his
curate's in the dressing-room, with the child upon his arm, waiting
for the name--and my mistress bid me run as fast as I could to know, as
captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it should not be called after
him.

Were one sure, said my father to himself, scratching his eye-brow, that
the child was expiring, one might as well compliment my brother Toby as
not--and it would be a pity, in such a case, to throw away so great a
name as Trismegistus upon him--but he may recover.

No, no,--said my father to Susannah, I'll get up--There is no time,
cried Susannah, the child's as black as my shoe. Trismegistus, said my
father--But stay--thou art a