Amos:
It's not my Seth, is it, sir? Not his tongue—and a bloody T. They would know how he could sing, and he looked like Gabriel in the books.
Hampden:
Shall we go, Oliver?
Cromwell:
No. Let us all see it out.
Bridget:
Father, it's horrible. They don't do things like that, do they?
Amos:
Dumb—and a bloody T—and the thumbs. It's some other poor lad.