—But your honour’s two razors shall be new set—and I will get my
_Montero_ cap furbish’d up, and put on poor lieutenant _Le Fever_’s
regimental coat, which your honour gave me to wear for his sake—and as
soon as your honour is clean shaved—and has got your clean shirt on,
with your blue and gold, or your fine scarlet——sometimes one and
sometimes t’other—and every thing is ready for the attack—we’ll march
up boldly, as if ’twas to the face of a bastion; and whilst your honour
engages Mrs. _Wadman_ in the parlour, to the right——I’ll attack Mrs.
_Bridget_ in the kitchen, to the left; and having seiz’d the pass, I’ll
answer for it, said the corporal, snapping his fingers over his
head—that the day is our own.
I wish I may but manage it right; said my uncle _Toby_—but I declare,
corporal, I had rather march up to the very edge of a trench——
—A woman is quite a different thing—said the corporal.
—I suppose so, quoth my uncle _Toby._