the world—the miracle of nature, as Zoroaster in his book περι φύσεως called him—the Shekinah of the divine presence, as Chrysostom⸺the image of God, as Moses⸺the ray of divinity, as Plato—the marvel of marvels , as Aristotle—to go sneaking on at this pitiful—pimping—pettifogging rate?
I scorn to be as abusive as Horace upon the occasion⸻but if there is no catachresis in the wish, and no sin in it, I wish from my soul, that every imitator in Great Britain , France , and Ireland , had the farcy for his pains; and that there was a good farcical house, large enough to hold—aye—and sublimate them, shag rag and bobtail , male and female, all together: and this leads me to the affair of Whiskers ⸺but, by what chain of ideas—I leave as a legacy in mortmain to Prudes and Tartufs, to enjoy and make the most of.
Upon Whiskers
I’m sorry I made it⸺’twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man’s head⸺A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world will not bear it—’tis a delicate world⸺but I knew not of what mettle it was made—nor had I ever seen the underwritten fragment; otherwise, as surely as noses are noses, and whiskers are whiskers still (let the world say what it will to the contrary); so surely would I have steered clear of this dangerous chapter.