I want to try my own sword on my own armour, and I will not give that mail coat to any one but who will face me for the best of three blows and a thrust in the fair field; and it is your chief's upon these terms." "Hut, prut, man--take a drink and go to bed," said the Highlander, in great scorn.

"Are ye mad?
Think ye the captain of the Clan Quhele will be brawling and battling with a bit Perth burgess body like you?
Whisht, man, and hearken.

Her nainsell will do ye mair credit than ever belonged to your kin.

She will fight you for the fair harness hersell." "She must first show that she is my match," said Henry, with a grim smile.
"How! I, one of Eachin MacIan's leichtach, and not your match!" "You may try me, if you will.

You say you are a fir nan ord.