“Go!” says he, one day at dinner, to an overgrown one which had buzzed about his nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinner-time, and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at last, as it flew by him; “I’ll not hurt thee,” says my uncle Toby, rising from his chair, and going across the room, with the fly in his hand—“I’ll not hurt a hair of thy head:—Go!” says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it escape; “go, poor devil, get thee gone, why should I hurt thee? This world, surely, is wide enough to hold both thee and me.” Sterne.—Tristram Shandy, Vol. II. Chap. XII.
