And force a-flicker! Were I only young,
Still with the mastery o'er bone and thew,
Grasping first spear that came, the yellow locks
Of this insulter would I bloody so—
Should send him skipping o'er the Atlantic bounds
Out of my arm's reach through poltroonery!
Cho. Have not the really good folk starting-points
For speech to purpose,—though rare talkers they?
Luk. Say thou against us words thou towerest with!
I, for thy words, will deal thee blows, their due.