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Updated: May 5, 2025
My father thrust back his chair rose up put on his hat took four long strides to the door jerked it open thrust his head half way out shut the door again took no notice of the bad hinge returned to the table pluck'd my mother's thread-paper out of Slawkenbergius's book went hastily to his bureau walked slowly back twisted my mother's thread-paper about his thumb unbutton'd his waistcoat threw my mother's thread-paper into the fire bit her sattin pin-cushion in two, fill'd his mouth with bran confounded it; but mark! the oath of confusion was levell'd at my uncle Toby's brain which was e'en confused enough already the curse came charged only with the bran the bran, may it please your honours, was no more than powder to the ball.
Pisaro, do not err; I found the Prince and she alone together, He all disorder'd like a Ravisher, Loose and unbutton'd for the amorous play; O that she had another Life to lose! Pis. You wrong her most inhumanly, you do; Her Blood, yet sensible of the injury, Flows to her face to upbraid thy Cruelty. Where dost thou mean, bad Man, to hide thy head?
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