An eye is for all the world exactly like a cannon, in this respect; That it is not so much the eye or the cannon, in themselves, as it is the carriage of the eye⁠⸺⁠and the carriage of the cannon, by which both the one and the other are enabled to do so much execution. I don’t think the comparison a bad one; However, as ’tis made and placed at the head of the chapter, as much for use as ornament, all I desire in return is, that whenever I speak of Mrs. Wadman’s eyes (except once in the next period), that you keep it in your fancy.

I protest, Madam, said my uncle Toby, I can see nothing whatever in your eye.

It is not in the white; said Mrs. Wadman: my uncle Toby look’d with might and main into the pupil⁠⸺⁠

Now of all the eyes which ever were created⁠⸺⁠from your own, Madam, up to those of Venus herself, which certainly were as venereal a pair of eyes as ever stood in a head⁠⸺⁠there never was an eye of them all, so fitted to rob my uncle Toby of his repose, as the very eye, at which he was looking⁠⸺⁠it was not, Madam, a rolling eye⁠⸺⁠a romping or a wanton one⁠—nor was it an eye sparkling⁠—petulant or imperious⁠—of high claims and terrifying exactions, which would have curdled at once that milk of human nature, of which my uncle Toby was made up⁠⸺⁠but ’twas an eye full of gentle salutations⁠⸺⁠and soft responses⁠⸺⁠speaking⁠⸺⁠not like the trumpet stop of some ill-made organ, in which many an eye I talk to, holds coarse converse⁠⸺⁠but whispering soft⁠⸺⁠like the last low accent of an expiring saint⁠⸺“How can you live comfortless, captain Shandy, and alone, without a bosom to lean your head on⁠⸺⁠or trust your cares to?”

It was an eye⁠⸺⁠

But I shall be in love with it myself, if I say another word about it.

⸺⁠It did my uncle Toby’s business.