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As we have leisure enough upon our hands——if you give me leave, madam, I’ll tell you the ninth tale of his tenth decad.

1. Vide page 105.

2. As the genuineness of the consultation of the Sorbonne upon the question of baptism, was doubted by some, and denied by others——’twas thought proper to print the original of this excommunication; for the copy of which Mr. Shandy returns thanks to the chapter clerk of the dean and chapter of Rochester.

3. Vide Locke. 176

BOOK IV

SLAWKENBERGII FABELLA1 177

BOOK IV

SLAWKENBERGIUS’S TALE

Vespera quâdam frigidulâ, posteriori in parte mensis Augusti, peregrinus, mulo fusco colore insidens, manticâ a tergo, paucis indusiis, binis calceis, braccisque sericis coccineis repleta, Argentoratum ingressus est.

It was one cool refreshing evening, at the close of a very sultry day, in the latter end of the month of August, when a stranger, mounted upon a dark mule, with a small cloak-bag behind him, containing a few shirts, a pair of shoes, and a crimson-sattin pair of breeches, entered the town of Strasburg.

Militi eum percontanti, quum portas intraret dixit, se apud Nasorum promontorium fuisse, Francofurtum proficisci, et Argentoratum, transitu ad fines Sarmatiæ mensis intervallo, reversurum.

He told the centinel, who questioned him as he entered the gates, that he had been at the Promontory of Noses—was going on to Frankfort——and should be back again at Strasburg that day month, in his way to the borders of Crim Tartary.

Miles peregrini in faciem suspexit——Dî boni, nova forma nasi!

The centinel looked up into the stranger’s face——he never saw such a Nose in his life!

At multum mihi profuit, inquit peregrinus, carpum amento extrahens, e quo pependit acinaces: Loculo manum inseruit; et magnâ cum urbanitate, pilei parte anteriore tactâ manu sinistrâ, ut extendit dextram, militi florinum dedit et processit.

—I have made a very good venture of it, quoth the stranger—so slipping his wrist out of the loop of a black ribbon, to which a short scymetar was hung, he put his hand into his pocket, and with great courtesy touching the fore part of his cap with his left hand, as he extended his right——he put a florin into the centinel’s hand, and passed on.

Dolet mihi, ait miles, tympanistam nanum et valgum alloquens, virum adeo urbanum vaginam perdidisse: itinerari haud poterit nudâ acinaci; neque vaginam toto Argentorato, habilem inveniet.———Nullam unquam habui, respondit peregrinus respiciens———seque comiter inclinans—hoc more gesto, nudam acinacem elevans, mulo lentò progrediente, ut nasum tueri possim.

It grieves me, said the centinel, speaking to a little dwarfish bandy-legg’d drummer, that so courteous a soul should have lost his scabbard———he cannot travel without one to his scymetar, and will not be able to get a scabbard to fit it in all Strasburg.——I never had one, replied the stranger, looking back to the centinel, and putting his hand up to his cap as he spoke——I carry it, continued he, thus——holding up his naked scymetar, his mule moving on slowly all the time—on purpose to defend my nose.

Non immerito, benigne peregrine, respondit miles.

It is well worth it, gentle stranger, replied the centinel.

Nihili æstimo, ait ille tympanista, e pergamenâ factitius est.

——’Tis not worth a single stiver, said the bandy-legg’d drummer——’tis a nose of parchment.

Prout christianus sum, inquit miles, nasus ille, ni sexties major sit, meo esset conformis.

As I am a true catholic—except that it is six times as big—’tis a nose, said the centinel, like my own.

Crepitare audivi ait tympanista.

—I heard it crackle, said the drummer. 178

Mehercule! sanguinem emisit, respondit miles. 179

By dunder, said the centinel, I saw it bleed.

Miseret me, inquit tympanista, qui non ambo tetigimus!

What a pity, cried the bandy-legg’d drummer, we did not both touch it!

Eodem temporis puncto, quo hæc res argumentata fuit inter militem et tympanistam, disceptabatur ibidem tubicine et uxore suâ qui tunc accesserunt, et peregrino prætereunte, restiterunt.

At the very time that this dispute was maintaining by the centinel and the drummer—was the same point debating betwixt a trumpeter and a trumpeter’s wife, who were just then coming up, and had stopped to see the stranger pass by.

Quantus nasus! æque longus est, ait tubicina, ac tuba.

Benedicity!———What a nose! ’tis as long, said the trumpeter’s wife, as a trumpet.

Et ex eodem metallo, ait tubicen, velut sternutamento audias.

And of the same metal, said the trumpeter, as you hear by its sneezing.

Tantum abest, respondit illa, quod fistulam dulcedine vincit.

’Tis as soft as a flute, said she.

Æneus est, ait tubicen.

—’Tis brass, said the trumpeter.

Nequaquam, respondit uxor.

—’Tis a pudding’s end, said his wife.

Rursum affirmo, ait tubicen, quod æneus est.

I tell thee again, said the trumpeter, ’tis a brazen nose.

Rem penitus explorabo; prius, enim digito tangam, ait uxor, quam dormivero.

I’ll know the bottom of it, said the trumpeter’s wife, for I will touch it with my finger before I sleep.

Mulus peregrini gradu lento progressus est, ut unumquodque verbum controversiæ, non tantum inter militem et tympanistam, verum etiam inter tubicinem et uxorem ejus, audiret.

The stranger’s mule moved on at so slow a rate, that he heard every word of the dispute, not only betwixt the centinel and the drummer, but betwixt the trumpeter and trumpeter’s wife.

Nequaquam, ait ille, in muli collum fræna demittens, et manibus ambabus in pectus positis, (mulo lentè progrediente) nequaquam, ait ille respiciens, non necesse est ut res isthæc dilucidata foret. Minime gentium! meus nasus nunquam tangetur, dum spiritus hos reget artus—Ad quid agendum? ait uxor burgomagistri.

No! said he, dropping his reins upon his mule’s neck, and laying both his hands upon his breast, the one over the other, in a saint-like position (his mule going on easily all the time) No! said he, looking up—I am not such a debtor to the world——slandered and disappointed as I have been—as to give it that conviction——no! said he, my nose shall never be touched whilst Heaven gives me strength——To do what? said a burgomaster’s wife.