He interlarded his address by sycophantic allusions to his natural lord and lawful sovereign, the King, whom God had set over them, and with vituperations of Nonconformity and of Monmouth, of whom--in his own words--he dared boldly affirm that the meanest subject within the kingdom that was of legitimate birth had a better title to the crown.
"Jesus God! That ever we should have such a generation of vipers among us," he burst out in rhetorical frenzy.

And then he sank back as if exhausted by the violence he had used.

A moment he was still, dabbing his lips again; then he moved uneasily; once more his features were twisted by pain, and in a few snarling, almost incoherent words he dismissed the jury to consider the verdict.
Peter Blood had listened to the intemperate, the blasphemous, and almost obscene invective of that tirade with a detachment that afterwards, in retrospect, surprised him.

He was so amazed by the man, by the reactions taking place in him between mind and body, and by his methods of bullying and coercing the jury into bloodshed, that he almost forgot that his own life was at stake.
The absence of that dazed jury was a brief one.

The verdict found the three prisoners guilty.