“Gallants of England ,” said Front-de-Boeuf, “how relish ye your entertainment at Torquilstone?⁠—Are ye yet aware what your surquedy and outrecuidance 30 merit, for scoffing at the entertainment of a prince of the House of Anjou?⁠—Have ye forgotten how ye requited the unmerited hospitality of the royal John? By God and St. Dennis, an ye pay not the richer ransom, I will hang ye up by the feet from the iron bars of these windows, till the kites and hooded crows have made skeletons of you!⁠—Speak out, ye Saxon dogs⁠—what bid ye for your worthless lives?⁠—How say you, you of Rotherwood ?”

“Not a doit I,” answered poor Wamba⁠—“and for hanging up by the feet, my brain has been topsy-turvy, they say, ever since the biggin was bound first round my head; so turning me upside down may peradventure restore it again.”