⸺That provision should be made for continuing the race of so great, so exalted and godlike a Being as man—I am far from denying—but philosophy speaks freely of everything; and therefore I still think and do maintain it to be a pity, that it should be done by means of a passion which bends down the faculties, and turns all the wisdom, contemplations, and operations of the soul backwards⸺a passion, my dear, continued my father, addressing himself to my mother, which couples and equals wise men with fools, and makes us come out of our caverns and hiding-places more like satyrs and four-footed beasts than men.
I know it will be said, continued my father (availing himself of the Prolepsis ), that in itself, and simply taken⸺like hunger, or thirst, or sleep⸺’tis an affair neither good or bad—or shameful or otherwise.⸺Why then did the delicacy of Diogenes and Plato so recalcitrate against it? and wherefore, when we go about to make and plant a man, do we put out the candle? and for what reason is it, that all the parts thereof—the congredients—the preparations—the instruments, and whatever serves thereto, are so held as to be conveyed to a cleanly mind by no language, translation, or periphrasis whatever?
⸺The act of killing and destroying a man, continued my father, raising his voice—and turning to my uncle Toby —you see, is glorious—and the weapons by which we do it are honourable⸺We march with them upon our shoulders⸺We strut with them by our sides⸺We gild them⸺We carve them⸺We inlay them⸺We enrich them⸺Nay, if it be but a scoundrel cannon, we cast an ornament upon the breach of it.—
⸺My uncle Toby laid down his pipe to intercede for a better epithet⸺and Yorick was rising up to batter the whole hypothesis to