He may keep Kit Ines from drink, he's one of you men, and rides over anything in his way.

I can't speak about it; I could swear it before a judge, from what I know.

Those Rundles at that inn don't hear anything it suits him to do.

All the people down in those parts are slaves to him.

And I thought he was a real St.George before,--yes, ready I was to kiss the ground his feet crossed.