"No good, I'm sure.

But I'll spoil his sport." "Say boh t' word, squoire, an ey'n break every boan i' his body," remarked Jem.
"No, no, Jem," replied Nicholas.

"Take care of your pretty sister, and I'll take care of him." At this juncture, Sir Thomas, who, in spite of the efforts of the pacific Master Potts to tranquillise him, had been burning with wrath at the affront he had received from Nicholas, came up to Richard Assheton, and, noticing the pink in his bosom, snatched it away suddenly.
"I want a flower," he said, smelling at it.
"Instantly restore it, Sir Thomas!" cried Richard Assheton, pale with rage, "or--" "What will you do, young sir ?" rejoined the knight tauntingly, and plucking the flower in pieces.

"You can get another from the fair nymph who gave you this." Further speech was not allowed the knight, for he received a violent blow on the chest from the hand of Richard Assheton, which sent him reeling backwards, and would have felled him to the ground if he had not been caught by some of the bystanders.

The moment he recovered, Sir Thomas drew his sword, and furiously assaulted young Assheton, who stood ready for him, and after the exchange of a few passes, for none of the bystanders dared to interfere, sent his sword whirling over their heads through the air.
"Bravo, Dick," cried Nicholas, stepping up, and clapping his cousin on the back, "you have read him a good lesson, and taught him that he cannot always insult folks with impunity, ha! ha!" And he laughed loudly at the discomfited knight.
"He is an insolent coward," said Richard Assheton.