CHAPTER XXXVII

----’Twill come out of itself by and bye. ----All I contend for is, that I am not obliged to set out with a definition of what love is; and so long as I can go on with my story intelligibly, with the help of the word itself, without any other idea to it, than what I have in common with the rest of the world, why should I differ from it a moment before the time? ----When I can get on no further, ----and find myself entangled on all sides of this mystic labyrinth, --my Opinion will then come in, in course, --and lead me out.

At present, I hope I shall be sufficiently understood, in telling the reader, my uncle _Toby_ _fell in love_:

--Not that the phrase is at all to my liking: for to say a man is _fallen_ in love, --or that he is _deeply_ in love, --or up to the ears in love, --and sometimes even _over head and ears in it_, --carries an idiomatical kind of implication, that love is a thing _below_ a man: --this is recurring again to _Plato’s_ opinion, which, with all his divinityship, --I hold to be damnable and heretical: --and so much for that.

Let love therefore be what it will, --my uncle _Toby_ fell into it.

----And possibly, gentle reader, with such a temptation--so wouldst thou: For never did thy eyes behold, or thy concupiscence covet anything in this world, more concupiscible than widow _Wadman_.

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