Your blood alone is wanted to fill up the goblet.

Sit down, John Brimblecombe, and bare your arm!" "But, Mr.Frank!--" said Jack, who was as superstitious as any old wife, and, what with the darkness and the discourse, already in a cold perspiration.
"But me no buts! or depart as recreant, not by the door like a man, but up the chimney like a flittermouse." "But, Mr.Frank!" "Thy vital juice, or the chimney! Choose!" roared Cary in his ear.
"Well, if I must," said Jack; "but it's desperate hard that because you can't keep faith without these barbarous oaths, I must take them too, that have kept faith these three years without any." At this pathetic appeal Frank nearly melted: but Amyas and Cary had thrust the victim into a chair and all was prepared for the sacrifice.
"Bind his eyes, according to the classic fashion," said Will.
"Oh no, dear Mr.Cary; I'll shut them tight enough, I warrant: but not with your dagger, dear Mr.William--sure, not with your dagger?
I can't afford to lose blood, though I do look lusty--I can't indeed; sure, a pin would do--I've got one here, to my sleeve, somewhere--Oh!" "See the fount of generous juice! Flow on, fair stream.

How he bleeds!--pints, quarts! Ah, this proves him to be in earnest!" "A true lover's blood is always at his fingers' ends." "He does not grudge it; of course not.

Eh, Jack?
What matters an odd gallon for her sake ?" "For her sake?
Nothing, nothing! Take my life, if you will: but--oh, gentlemen, a surgeon, if you love me! I'm going off--I 'm fainting!" "Drink, then, quick; drink and swear! Pat his back, Cary.

Courage, man! it will be over in a minute.