repeat that I should like to hear you try to say four words running!  Many men jabber; very few speak.  You imagine you know something, because you have kept idle terms at Oxford or Cambridge, and because, before being peers of England on the benches of Westminster, you have been asses on the benches at Gonville and Caius.  Here I am; and I choose to stare you in the face.  You have just been impudent to this new peer.  A monster, certainly; but a monster given up to beasts.  I had rather be that man than you.  I was present at the sitting, in my place as a possible heir to a peerage.  I heard all.  I have not the right to speak; but I have the right to be a gentleman.  Your jeering airs annoyed me.  When I am angry I would go up to Mount Pendlehill, and pick the cloudberry which brings the thunderbolt down on the gatherer.  That is the reason why I have waited for you at the door.  We must have a few words, for we have arrangements to make.  Did it strike you that you failed a little in respect towards myself?  My lords, I entertain a firm determination to kill a few of you.  All you who are here—­Thomas Tufton, Earl of Thanet; Savage, Earl Rivers; Charles Spencer, Earl of Sunderland; Laurence Hyde, Earl of Rochester; you Barons, Gray of Rolleston, Cary Hunsdon, Escrick, Rockingham, little Carteret; Robert Darcy, Earl of Holderness; William, Viscount Hutton; and Ralph, Duke of Montagu; and any who choose—­I, David Dirry-Moir, an officer of the fleet, summon, call, and command you to provide yourselves, in all haste, with seconds and umpires, and I will meet you face to face and hand to hand, to-night, at once, to-morrow, by day or night, by sunlight or by candlelight, where, when, or how you please, so long as there is two sword-lengths’ space; and you will do well to look to the flints of your pistols and the edges of your rapiers, for it is my firm intention to cause vacancies in your peerages.—­Ogle Cavendish, take your measures, and think of your motto, Cavendo tutus.—­Marmaduke Langdale, you will do well, like your ancestor, Grindold, to order a coffin to be brought with you.—­George Booth, Earl of Warrington, you will never again see the County Palatine of Chester, or your labyrinth like that of Crete, or the high towers of Dunham Massy!—­As to Lord Vaughan, he is young enough to talk impertinently, and too old to answer for it.  I shall demand satisfaction for his words of his nephew Richard Vaughan, Member of Parliament for the Borough of Merioneth.—­As for you, John Campbell, Earl of Greenwich, I will kill you as Achon killed Matas; but with a fair cut, and not from behind, it being my custom to present my heart and not my back to the point of the sword.—­I have spoken my mind, my lords.  And so use witchcraft if you like.  Consult the fortune-tellers.  Grease your skins with ointments and drugs to make them invulnerable; hang round your necks charms of the devil or the Virgin.  I will fight you blest or curst, and I will not have you searched to see