“Well, sir,” says he, “and what then? What is this to the paying me the £30?”
“Why, sir,” says I, “it is this to it, that I told the person that brought it I should not pay it.”
“Not pay it!” says he. “But you shall pay it; ay, ay, you will pay it.”
“She that draws it has no reason to draw any bills upon me, I am sure,” said I; “and I shall pay no bills she draws, I assure you.”
Upon this he turns short upon me: “Sir, she that draws this bill is a person of too much honour to draw any bill without reason, and ’tis an affront to say so of her, and I shall expect satisfaction of you for that by itself. But first the bill, sir—the bill; you must pay the bill, sir.”
I returned as short: “Sir, I affront nobody. I know the person as well as you, I hope; and what I have said of her is no affront. She can have no reason to draw bills upon me, for I owe her nothing.”
I omit intermingling the oaths he laced his speech with, as too foul for my paper. But he told me he would make me know she had friends to stand by her, that I had abused her, and he would let me know it, and do her justice. But first I must pay his bill.
I answered, in short, I would not pay the bill, nor any bills she should draw.
With that he steps to the door and shuts it, and swore by G—d he would make me pay the bill before we parted, and laid his hand upon his sword, but did not draw it out.
I confess I was frighted to the last degree, for I had no sword; and if I had, I must own that, though I had learned a great many good things in France to make me look like a gentleman, I had forgot the main article of learning how to use a sword, a thing so universally practised there; and, to say more, I had been perfectly unacquainted with quarrels of this nature; so that I was perfectly surprised when he shut the door, and knew not what to say or do.