—BUT can the thing be undone, _Yorick?_ said my father—for in my
opinion, continued he, it cannot. I am a vile canonist, replied
_Yorick_—but of all evils, holding suspence to be the most tormenting,
we shall at least know the worst of this matter. I hate these great
dinners——said my father—The size of the dinner is not the point,
answered _Yorick_——we want, Mr. _Shandy_, to dive into the bottom of
this doubt, whether the name can be changed or not—and as the beards of
so many commissaries, officials, advocates, proctors, registers, and of
the most eminent of our school-divines, and others, are all to meet in
the middle of one table, and _Didius_ has so pressingly invited you—who
in your distress would miss such an occasion? All that is requisite,
continued _Yorick_, is to apprize _Didius_, and let him manage a
conversation after dinner so as to introduce the subject.—Then my
brother _Toby_, cried my father, clapping his two hands together, shall
go with us.
——Let my old tye-wig, quoth my uncle _Toby_, and my laced regimentals,
be hung to the fire all night, _Trim._