You are nicely dressed, but you are a puppy.

Dare to tell me you are not, and I will grind you under my foot, as I would grind a worm.

Don't give me a word--not a word! I am not in a mood to bear it!" Having vented his indignation and disgust, with the fiercest facial expression and the most menacing gesticulations, he became calm, and proceeded: "Benedict at the poor-house, hopelessly insane! Tell me now, and, mark you, no lies here! Who developed his inventions?
Whose money was risked?
What did it cost Benedict?
Nothing.

What did it cost Robert Belcher?
More thousands than Benedict ever dreamed of.

Have you done your duty, Robert Belcher?
Ay, ay, sir! I believe you.