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brave.⁠⸺’Tis all fancy, an’ please your honour⁠—I fought just as well, replied the corporal, when the regiment called me Trim , as when they called me James Butler .⁠⸺⁠And for my own part, said my uncle Toby , though I should blush to boast of myself, Trim ⁠⸺⁠yet had my name been Alexander , I could have done no more at Namur than my duty.⁠—Bless your honour! cried Trim , advancing three steps as he spoke, does a man think of his christian-name when he goes upon the attack?⁠⸻Or when he stands in the trench, Trim? cried my uncle Toby , looking firm.⁠⸺⁠Or when he enters a breach? said Trim , pushing in between two chairs.⁠⸺⁠Or forces the lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a pike.⁠⸺⁠Or facing a platoon? cried Trim , presenting his stick like a firelock.⁠⸺⁠Or when he marches up the glacis? cried my uncle Toby , looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.⁠⸻