evil comes of this I shall testify to the grossness of your aggression.
Get you gone from here!"

"Go to the devil, sir," said Master Godolphin thickly. "Is my mother's
name to be upon the lips of that bastard? By God, man, the matter rests
not here. He shall send his friends to me, or I will horse-whip him
every time we meet. You hear, Sir Oliver?"

Sir Oliver made him no reply.

"You hear?" he roared. "There is no Sir John Killigrew this time upon
whom you can shift the quarrel. Come you to me and get the punishment
of which that whiplash is but an earnest." Then with a thick laugh he
drove spurs into his horse's flanks, so furiously that he all but sent
the parson and another sprawling.

"Stay but a little while for me," roared Sir Oliver after him. "You'll
ride no more, my drunken fool!"

And in a rage he bellowed for his horse, flinging off the parson and
Master Baine, who endeavoured to detain and calm him. He vaulted to the
saddle when the nag was brought him, and whirled away in furious
pursuit.

The parson looked at the Justice and the Justice shrugged, his lips
tight-pressed.

"The young fool is drunk," said Sir Andrew, shaking his white head.
"He's in no case to meet his Maker."