V + 

Any man, Madam, reasoning upwards, and observing the prodigious suffusion of blood in my fatherвАЩs countenance,вБ†вАФby means of which (as all the blood in his body seemed to rush into his face, as I told you) he must have reddened, pictorically and scientifically speaking, six whole tints and a half, if not a full octave above his natural colour:вБ†вАФany man, Madam, but my uncle Toby, who had observed this, together with the violent knitting of my fatherвАЩs brows, and the extravagant contortion of his body during the whole affair,вБ†вАФwould have concluded my father in a rage; and taking that for granted,вБ†вАФhad he been a lover of such kind of concord as arises from two such instruments being put in exact tune,вБ†вАФhe would instantly have skrewвАЩd up his, to the same pitch;вБ†вАФand then the devil and all had broke looseвБ†вАФthe whole piece, Madam, must have been played off like the sixth of Avison ScarlattiвБ†вАФcon furia,вБ†вАФlike mad.вБ†вАФGrant me patience!вБ†вЄЇвБ†What has con furia,вБ†вЄЇвБ†con strepito,вБ†вЄЇвБ†or any other hurly burly whatever to do with harmony? + 

Any man, I say, Madam, but my uncle Toby, the benignity of whose heart interpreted every motion of the body in the kindest sense the motion would admit of, would have concluded my father angry, and blamed him too. My uncle Toby blamed nothing but the tailor who cut the pocket-hole;вБ†вЄЇвБ†so sitting still till my father had got his handkerchief out of it, and looking all the time up in his face with inexpressible goodwillвБ†вЄЇвБ†my father, at length, went on as follows. + 