Thou pribbling, ill-nurtured knave! Thou think’st to end me with a shard of steel? Away, ye goatish, milk-livered knave! Thy wit’s as sharp as a marble! Thou toad-spotted miscreant! Thou art as useless as a pewter sword! Thy tongue outvenoms all the worms of the Nile, yet thy hand is slower than a sleeping tortoise! Go; hang thyself fool! Thou canst not escape retribution! Tremble and despair! May thy members be blasted, and may a pox upon thee seize thy wretched soul! May the falling sickness and fever plague thy waking hours until thy bones turn to dust! I shall curse thy bloodline to the seventh generation, that they may wander the earth with faces as pale as the dead!
