"And I like not such a fire-new, bejeweled scabbard.

Mine, you see, is out at heel." "I see," he said dryly.
"The pinking of your doublet suits me not, either," I declared.

"I could make it more to my liking," and I touched his Genoa three-pile with the point of my rapier.
A loud murmur arose from the crowd, and the Governor started forward, crying out, "Captain Percy! Are you mad ?" "I was never saner in my life, sir," I answered.

"French fashions like me not,--that is all,--nor Englishmen that wear them.

To my thinking such are scarcely true-born." That thrust went home.