XIII
Now in ordinary cases, that is, when I am only stupid, and the thoughts rise heavily and pass gummous through my penвБ†вЄЇвБ†
Or that I am got, I know not how, into a cold unmetaphorical vein of infamous writing, and cannot take a plumb-lift out of it for my soul; so must be obliged to go on writing like a Dutch commentator to the end of the chapter, unless something be doneвБ†вЄЇвБ†
вЄЇвБ†I never stand conferring with pen and ink one moment; for if a pinch of snuff, or a stride or two across the room will not do the business for meвБ†вАФI take a razor at once; and having tried the edge of it upon the palm of my hand, without further ceremony, except that of first lathering my beard, I shave it off; taking care only if I do leave a hair, that it be not a grey one: this done, I change my shirtвБ†вАФput on a better coatвБ†вАФsend for my last wigвБ†вАФput my topaz ring upon my finger; and in a word, dress myself from one end to the other of me, after my best fashion.
Now the devil in hell must be in it, if this does not do: for consider, Sir, as every man chooses to be present at the shaving of his own beard (though there is no rule without an exception), and unavoidably sits over-against himself the whole time it is doing, in case he has a hand in itвБ†вАФthe Situation, like all others, has notions of her own to put into the brain.вБ†вЄЇвБ†
вЄЇвБ†I maintain it, the conceits of a rough-bearded man, are seven years more terse and juvenile for one single operation; and if they did not run a risk of being quite shaved away, might be carried up by continual shavings, to the highest pitch of sublimityвБ†вАФHow Homer could write with so long a beard, I donвАЩt knowвБ†вЄЇвБ†and as it makes against my hypothesis, I as little careвБ†вЄЇвБ†But let us return to the Toilet.
Ludovicus Sorbonensis makes this entirely an affair of the body (бЉРќЊѕЙѕДќµѕБќєќЇбљі ѕАѕБбЊґќЊќєѕВ) as he calls itвБ†вЄЇвБ†but he is deceived: the soul and body are joint-sharers in everything they get: A man cannot dress, but his ideas get clothвАЩd at the same time; and if he dresses like a gentleman, every one of them stands presented to his imagination, genteelized along with himвБ†вАФso that he has nothing to do, but take his pen, and write like himself.
For this cause, when your honours and reverences would know whether I writ clean and fit to be read, you will be able to judge full as well by looking into my LaundressвАЩs bill, as my book: there was one single month in which I can make it appear, that I dirtied one and thirty shirts with clean writing; and after all, was more abusвАЩd, cursed, criticisвАЩd, and confounded, and had more mystic heads shaken at me, for what I had wrote in that one month, than in all the other months of that year put together.
вЄЇвБ†But their honours and reverences had not seen my bills.