"We will apply some fresh balsam, and--he, he, he!--relieve your knightly honour of the irritation which you sustain so firmly." "Firmly, man!" said Ramorny, grinning with pain; "I sustain it as I would the scorching flames of purgatory.

The bone seems made of red hot iron; thy greasy ointment will hiss as it drops upon the wound.

And yet it is December's ice, compared to the fever fit of my mind!" "We will first use our emollients upon the body, my noble patron," said Dwining; "and then, with your knighthood's permission; your servant will try his art on the troubled mind; though I fain hope even the mental pain also may in some degree depend on the irritation of the wound, and that, abated as I trust the corporeal pangs will soon be, perhaps the stormy feelings of the mind may subside of themselves." "Henbane Dwining," said the patient, as he felt the pain of his wound assuaged, "thou art a precious and invaluable leech, but some things are beyond thy power.

Thou canst stupify my bodily cause of this raging agony, but thou canst not teach me to bear the score of the boy whom I have brought up--whom I loved, Dwining--for I did love him--dearly love him! The worst of my ill deeds have been to flatter his vices; and he grudged me a word of his mouth, when a word would have allayed this cumber! He smiled, too--I saw him smile--when yon paltry provost, the companion and patron of wretched burghers, defied me, whom this heartless prince knew to be unable to bear arms.

Ere I forget or forgive it, thou thyself shalt preach up the pardoning of injuries! And then the care for tomorrow! Think'st thou, Henbane Dwining, that, in very reality, the Wounds of the slaughtered corpse will gape and shed tears of fresh blood at the murderer's approach ?" "I cannot tell, my lord, save by report," said Dwining, "which avouches the fact." "The brute Bonthron," said Ramorny, "is startled at the apprehension of such a thing, and speaking of being rather willing to stand the combat.
What think'st thou?
He is a fellow of steel." "It is the armourer's trade to deal with steel," replied Dwining.
"Were Bonthron to fall, it would little grieve me," said Ramorny; "though I should miss an useful hand." "I well believe your lordship will not sorrow as for that you lost in Curfew Street.