[89]
was saying to the libertine he is reclaiming—"You grant me this—and this: and this, and this, I don't ask of you—they follow of themselves in course."
So stood my father, holding fast his fore-finger betwixt his finger and his thumb, and reasoning with my uncle Toby as he sat in his old fringed chair, valanced around with party-coloured worsted bobs—O Garrick! what a rich scene of this would thy exquisite powers make! and how gladly would I write such another to avail myself of thy immortality, and secure my own behind it.
CHAP.
