—But 'tis no marvel, continued the corporal—seeing my uncle Toby musing upon it—for Love, an' please your honour, is exactly like war, in this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks complete o'Saturday night,—may nevertheless be shot through his heart on Sunday morning—It happened so here, an' please your honour, with this difference only—that it was on Sunday in the afternoon, when I fell in love all at once with a sisserara—It burst upon me, an' please your honour, like a bomb—scarce giving me time to say, 'God bless me.'
I thought, Trim, said my uncle Toby, a man never fell in love so very suddenly.
Yes, an' please your honour, if he is in the way of it—replied Trim.
I prithee, quoth my uncle Toby, inform me how this matter happened.
—With all pleasure, said the corporal, making a bow.