362 Sterne, and the Duke of Wharton : a Dramatic Scene. [^Ocx. 



horrifying, Eugenius ; I awoke in terror, and starting out of bed, the 

 light of the soothing morn attracted nae to the window, and the first 

 object which presented itself was thy weathercock, pointing from the 

 congenial south ! 



Wharton. Have mercy on my weakness, Yorick! yet, despite thy 

 raillery, I shall persist in my belief of the cause of my malady. This 

 morning, to wit — did the wind blow from the pestilent quarter — I should 

 not be where, and as, I am ; and so acutely susceptible are my nerves of 

 the change, that I am sensible of it the moment I feel the first breath of 

 the morning. I never was in better spirits than at present — a proof, 

 Yorick, of the fallacy of thy ridicule in that particular. 



Sterne. Now, thou laughest at my dream, Eugenius ; but I verily 

 pray that the devil, of which thou hast been dispossessed, may not have 

 entered me ; for I feel wofully chop-fallen. However, I rejoice in thy 

 convalescence ; for, without thee, I am but as a mateless sparrow on 

 the house-top — ^my chirruping ceases, and I hide my head under my 

 wing. 



Wharton. This day I am determined to be social ; therefore make up 

 thy mind to amuse and be amused, Yorick ; and I promise thee that 

 there is no arrow in the quiver of thy wit, however surpassing in keen- 

 ness, which shall pierce the panoply of my good-nature. 



Sterne. God bless thee, Eugenius ! thou wert surely created to put 

 me in love with life ; I can better paint thy impassioned friendship by 

 likening it to a beautifully transparent basin of snowy marble, into 

 ■which the fountain of my overflowing heart discharges its fervid torrent, 

 settling there into a tranquil and glassy repose. With thee I could 

 leave the world and become a monk — what think est thou of me for a 

 monk } Heavens, what a blissful existence ! To kneel devoutly while 

 the melodious quiverings of the matin hymn reverberated through the 

 fretted choir of some old monastery, and the joyous sunlight streamed 

 through the flaunting colours of its many windows ; to bend in adora- 

 tion on the moon-lit mosaic floor, and prefer a prayer to the unseen 

 Virgin ; and, immured in Gothic magnificence, and surrounded by the 

 glory of nature, pass to heaven without spot or blemish — but, pardon 

 me, absent Eliza ! my assuming the cowl could be only on the unallow- 

 able condition that thou shouldst accompany nie. 



Wharton. A true Cistercian, on my soul ! So this is the finishing 

 stroke to thy painting of monastic beatitude ! Thy outline sketch was 

 somewhat in character ; but no sooner did I feel solemnized by its 

 embodiment, than thy wicked pencil introduced a petticoat. Thou a 

 monk ! why thou wouldst have been enough to have procured the dis- 

 solution of all the religious houses in Christendom; and had sly old 

 Harry taken thee as a specimen of monastic rectitude, it Avould have 

 saved Thomas Cromwell's journeys, and have doomed the abbeys without 

 further investigation. Take thee in the humour for worshipping the 

 virgin, and tliou wouldst acquit thyself most devotionally, no doubt ; 

 but how long might the fit last .'' 



Sterne. Why, on a second thought, three months out of the twelve ; 

 the other nine of which I should like to take leave of my beads and 

 rosary, my cowl and crucifix, and take a ramble to France, returning as 

 good a monk as ever. I would never abuse the sanctity of my seclusion 

 by so much as a smile, unless thou, Eugenius, let slip some unlucky 

 repartee, or whispered in my ear one of thy crazy chapters. 



