What, man, ne'er lack a draught, when the full can
Stands at thine elbow, and craves emptying!--
Nay, fear not me, for I have no delight
To watch men's vices, since I have myself
Of virtue nought to boast of--I'm a striker,
Would have the world strike with me, pell-mell, all.
--PANDEMONIUM.

Tressilian, in strange agitation of mind, had hardly stepped down the
first two or three steps of the winding staircase, when, greatly to his
surprise and displeasure, he met Michael Lambourne, wearing an impudent
familiarity of visage, for which Tressilian felt much disposed to throw
him down-stairs; until he remembered the prejudice which Amy, the only
object of his solicitude, was likely to receive from his engaging in any
act of violence at that time and in that place.

He therefore contented himself with looking sternly upon Lambourne, as
upon one whom he deemed unworthy of notice, and attempted to pass him in
his way downstairs, without any symptom of recognition. But Lambourne,
who, amidst the profusion of that day's hospitality, had not failed
to take a deep though not an overpowering cup of sack, was not in the
humour of humbling himself before any man's looks. He stopped Tressilian
upon the staircase without the least bashfulness or embarrassment, and
addressed him as if he had been on kind and intimate terms:--"What, no
grudge between us, I hope, upon old scores, Master Tressilian?--nay,
I am one who remembers former kindness rather than latter feud. I'll
convince you that I meant honestly and kindly, ay, and comfortably by
you."