As soon as the corporal had finished the story of his amour--or rather my uncle Toby for him--Mrs. Wadman silently sallied forth from her arbour, replaced the pin in her mob, pass'd the wicker gate, and advanced slowly towards my uncle Toby's sentry-box: the disposition which Trim had made in my uncle Toby's mind, was too favourable a crisis to be let slipp'd----The attack was determin'd upon: it was facilitated still more by my uncle Toby's having ordered the corporal to wheel off the pioneer's shovel, the spade, the pick-axe, the picquets, and other military stores which lay scatter'd upon the ground where Dunkirk stood--The corporal had march'd--the field was clear.
Now, consider, sir, what nonsense it is, either in fighting, or writing, or any thing else (whether in rhyme to it, or not) which a man has occasion to do--to act by plan: for if ever Plan, independent of all circumstances, deserved registering in letters of gold (I mean in the archives of Gotham)--it was certainly the Plan of Mrs. Wadman's attack of my uncle Toby in his sentry-box, By Plan--Now the plan hanging up in it at this juncture, being the Plan of Dunkirk--and the tale of Dunkirk a tale of relaxation, it opposed every impression she could make: and besides, could she have gone upon it--the manoeuvre of fingers and hands in the attack of the sentry-box--was so outdone by that of the fair Beguine's, in Trim's story--that just then, that particular attack, however successful before--became the most heartless attack that could be made--O! let woman alone for this. Mrs. Wadman had scarce open'd the wicker-gate, when her genius sported with the change of circumstances.
--She formed a new attack in a moment.