You have the nerve to call me a disgrace? Me? The fittest representative of the male gender in all of Massachusetts? I'll tell you what you are, Martin Gibson. You're a currish fen-sucked malt-worm, a mammering tardy-gaited nut-hook, a pestilential nattering cutpurse, an impertinent toad-spotted haggard, and a simpering gutless know-nothing son of slagheap slattern! I wouldn't rate your masculinity much above that of a common freshwater mollusc. You are as slippery as a squid and as ugly as a squashed hemp worm. Go back to your noisome and filthy quarters and ponder your own multitudinous sins, you wretched infertile maundering and colossal nincompoop!