Shut your trap and get you gone down your rat-run, Thomas Bolle, and, living or dead, never dare to speak to me again.

Also forget not to tell your monks how I called you to my side--for that's witchcraft, you know, and I shall burn for it, and your soul gain benefit.

God in heaven! to think that once you were Thomas Bolle," and she made as though to go away.
He stretched out his great arm and caught her by the robe, exclaiming-- "What would you have me do, Emlyn?
I can't bear your scorn.

Take it off me or I go kill myself." "That's what you had best do.

You'll find the devil a better master than a foreign abbot.