—of wondering why he was begot,—wishing himself dead;—sometimes worse

From Tristram Shandy, for those days wasted in war with bookcases and shelving:

My father, I say, had a way, when things went extremely wrong with him, especially upon the first sally of his impatience,—of wondering why he was begot,—wishing himself dead;—sometimes worse:——And when the provocation ran high, and grief touched his lips with more than ordinary powers—Sir, you scarce could have distinguished him from Socrates himself.——

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