Sir Toby: Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Feste: Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth too.
'There is no terror, brotherToby, in its looks, but what it borrowsfromgroans and convulsionsand theblowing of noses, and the wiping away of tears with the bottoms ofcurtains, ina dying man'sroomStrip itofthese, what is it?''Tis better in battle than in bed,'said my uncle Toby.Laurence Sterne
"He shall not die, by God," cried my uncle Toby. The Accusing Spirit which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in: and the Recording Angel as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word and blotted it out forever.Laurence Sterne
Toby? Toby, what are you