My uncle _Toby_, on the contrary, took it like a lamb----sat still and let the poison work in his veins without resistance----in the sharpest exacerbations of his wound (like that on his groin) he never dropt one fretful or discontented word----he blamed neither heaven nor earth----or thought or spoke an injurious thing of any body, or any part of it; he sat solitary and pensive with his pipe----looking at his lame leg----then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! 
My uncle Toby, on the contrary, took it like a lamb - sat still and let the poison work in his veins without resistance. In the sharpest pains of the wound (like that on his groin) he never dropped one fretful word - he blamed neither heaven nor earth, or spoke ill of any body. He sat solitary and pensive with his pipe - looking at his lame leg - then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! 