[18]
had he been a lover of such kind of concord as arises from two such instruments being put into exact tune,—he would instantly have skrew'd up his, to the same pitch;—and then the devil and all had broke loose—the whole piece, madam, must have been played off like the sixth of Avison Scarlatti—con furia,—like mad.—Grant me patience!—What has con furia,—con strepito,—or any other hurlyburly word 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 taylor who cut the pocket-hole;—so sitting still, tillmy
