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creases his own.—Not a jot, quoth my father.
CHAPTER XIII.
My brother, does it, quoth my uncle Toby, out of principle.—In a family-way, I suppose, quoth Dr. Slop.—Pshaw!—said my father,—'tis not worth talking of.
CHAPTER XIV.
At the end of the last chapter, my father and my uncle Toby were left both standing, like Brutus and Cassius, at the close of the scene making up their accounts.
As
