Indeed, it was believed that if you swore on God's body – "'sblood!"

But I must up to town after—'Sblood, when I catch my son Harry!—Oh, here's John Dory.

I! 'sblood! no, never in my life.

Degrade my profession!—my—look ye, Madelon; I love thee with all my heart—with an honest soldier's heart—else I could tell your father, that a citizen could never get on in the world, without a soldier to do his journey-work:—and your soldier, look ye—'sblood! it makes me fret like a hot day's march!—your soldier, in all nations, when he is rusted down to your quiet citizen, and so sets up at home for himself, is in double respect, for having served such an honourable apprenticeship.

Say no more—but take care of yourself in the battle—that's all.—'Sblood! if the enemy were to find your little, dry, taper carcase, pink'd full of round holes, they'd mistake you for your own fife.