Observing him with his physician's eye, Peter Blood judged him a prey to the pain of the disease that was destroying him.
"So you shall.

But after the admission made, what defence remains ?" "You shall judge, my lord." "That is the purpose for which I sit here." "And so shall you, gentlemen." Blood looked from judge to jury.

The latter shifted uncomfortably under the confident flash of his blue eyes.
Lord Jeffreys's bullying charge had whipped the spirit out of them.

Had they, themselves, been prisoners accused of treason, he could not have arraigned them more ferociously.
Peter Blood stood boldly forward, erect, self-possessed, and saturnine.
He was freshly shaven, and his periwig, if out of curl, was at least carefully combed and dressed.
"Captain Hobart has testified to what he knows--that he found me at Oglethorpe's Farm on the Monday morning after the battle at Weston.

But he has not told you what I did there." Again the Judge broke in.