Trim informs Toby that "the fortifications are quite destroyed." Toby, "with a sigh half suppress'd," would like to confirm the details in the official "stipulation"; since he has put the action off for six weeks, the old charwoman finally burned the newspaper containing the stipulation. Trim is about to carry off his tools, but Toby's sighs stop him; he therefore plans to do it "before his honour rises to-morrow morning," to save him the pain of seeing it all come to an end.
To cheer up his master, Trim begins to tell him a story: The King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles. Before he can get started, however, Toby compliments and praises Trim for his good nature and character. Trim removes his hat and bows — although he is sitting down — and in so doing, he loses his grip on his hat. The hat lies on the ground just out of reach.
Trim begins his story: "There was a certain king of Bo - - he — " Toby interrupts to invite him to put on his hat again. They discuss the tarnish on the embroidery, and Trim is moved at the thought of his brother Tom, who had sent it to him from Portugal. Trim begins again: "There was a certain king of Bohemia, but in whose reign, except his own, I am not able to inform your honour — " "I do not desire it of thee, Trim, by any means, cried my uncle Toby." The next stop is caused by the date: "In the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and twelve, there was, an' please your honour — " " — To tell thee truly, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, any other date would have pleased me much better." Trim's nerves begin to get slightly raw; when Toby recommends that he use a different date "if ever thou tellest it again — ," Trim replies: " — If I live, an' please your honour, but once to get through it, I will never tell it again . . . either to man, woman, or child." Military matters arise in the discussion of the difference geography and chronology; from there they proceed to the justification for Bohemia's not having a seaport ("being totally inland") and then to predestination. Trim mentions that he was once in love, his destiny having arranged for him to be wounded in the knee first. They argue inconclusively about whether a wound is more painful in the knee or in the groin, and Mrs. Wadman, sitting in her garden on the other side of the hedge, "instantly stopp'd her breath — unpinn'd her mob at the chin, and stood up upon one leg."
