Walter was fortunate to get a copy of Bruscambille's prologue on long noses. He solaced himself with it the way "your worship solaced yourself with your first mistress, — that is, from morning even unto night." Then he got hold of other learned works on the subject, above all, that of the "great and learned Hafen Slawkenbergius," of whom Tristram will soon write.
Walter was disappointed in Erasmus' writings "upon the various uses and seasonable applications of long noses," and Tristram warns the female reader to behave "like Tickletoby's mare" in keeping Satan from getting astride of your imagination."
Unlearned readers must read, says Tristram, if they want to know who Tickletoby's mare is and what the other learned references in his book are, and especially if they want to understand the significance of the marbled page that follows immediately.
Walter struggles with the sense of Erasmus' "celebrated dialogue," but only by scratching the words with a penknife can he get the sense be wants out of it: "See, my dear brother Toby, how I have mended the sense. — But you have marr'd a word, replied my uncle Toby. — My father put on his spectacles, — bit his lip, — and tore out the leaf in a passion.
Tristram invokes Slawkenbergius, who knows all about noses, and asks where his (the latter's) genius came from, what his inspiration was. With him he compares the other authorities, Prignitz, Scroderus, Ambrose Paraeus, and their theories. The theory of the last one "overthrew . . . the system of peace and harmony of our family" and started a great dispute between Mr. and Mrs. Shandy.
