“Nay, I fancy no fight, in faith I tell you—
for about this bench are but beardless children.
If I had arms and armor on a high steed,
there’s no man here to match me, the mightiest so weak.
So I crave in this court a Christmas game,
for it’s Yule and the New Year, and there’s young men aplenty:
if someone considers himself so stout in this house,
to be so bold in his blood, so brazen in his head,
that he dares sternly strike one stroke for another,
I shall give him the gift of this gorgeous halberd,
this axe, which is heavy enough, to handle as he pleases,
and I’ll bear the first blow as bare as I sit here.
If anybody be so bold as to brave my challenge,
come quickly to me, and acquire this weapon—
I quitclaim it forever, keep it as your own—
and I’ll withstand a stroke from him, steadfast on this floor,
and if you’ll grant me the right to give him another,
            we’re square;
            yet give him time to breathe,
            a single day and a year.
            Now hurry, let us see
            if anyone here would dare.”