The next day Judge Selden argued the motion for a new trial on seven exceptions, but this was denied by Judge Hunt.  The following scene then took place in the courtroom: 

    Judge Hunt.—­(Ordering the defendant to stand up).  Has the prisoner
    anything to say why sentence shall not be pronounced?

Miss Anthony.—­Yes, your honor, I have many things to say; for in your ordered verdict of guilty you have trampled under foot every vital principle of our government.  My natural rights, my civil rights, my political rights, my judicial rights, are all alike ignored.  Robbed of the fundamental privilege of citizenship, I am degraded from the status of a citizen to that of a subject; and not only myself individually but all of my sex are, by your honor’s verdict, doomed to political subjection under this so-called republican form of government.

    Judge Hunt.—­The Court can not listen to a rehearsal of argument
    which the prisoner’s counsel has already consumed three hours in
    presenting.

Miss Anthony.—­May it please your honor, I am not arguing the question, but simply stating the reasons why sentence can not, in justice, be pronounced against me.  Your denial of my citizen’s right to vote, is the denial of my right of consent as one of the governed, the denial of my right of representation as one of the taxed, the denial of my right to a trial by a jury of my peers as an offender against law; therefore, the denial of my sacred right to life, liberty, property and—­

    Judge Hunt.—­The Court can not allow the prisoner to go on.

Miss Anthony.—­But your honor will not deny me this one and only poor privilege of protest against this high-handed outrage upon my citizen’s rights.  May it please the Court to remember that, since the day of my arrest last November, this is the first time that either myself or any person of my disfranchised class has been allowed a word of defense before judge or jury—­

Judge Hunt.—­The prisoner must sit down—­the Court can not allow it.

Miss Anthony.—­Of all my prosecutors, from the corner grocery politician who entered the complaint, to the United States marshal, commissioner, district-attorney, district-judge, your honor on the bench—­not one is my peer, but each and all are my political sovereigns; and had your honor submitted my case to the jury, as was clearly your duty, even then I should have had just cause of protest, for not one of those men was my peer; but, native or foreign born, white or black, rich or poor, educated or ignorant, sober or drunk, each and every man of them was my political superior; hence, in no sense, my peer.  Under such circumstances a commoner of England, tried before a jury of lords, would have far less cause to complain than have I, a woman, tried before a jury of men.  Even my counsel, Hon. Henry R. Selden, who has argued