Surely, dear brother," he continued, holding out his hand, "you have a warmer greeting than this for me.
There are but two boughs left upon this old, old Saxon trunk." His elder brother dashed his hand aside with an oath, while an expression of malignant hatred passed over his passion-drawn features.
"You are the young cub of Beaulieu, then," said he.

"I might have known it by the sleek face and the slavish manner too monk-ridden and craven in spirit to answer back a rough word.

Thy father, shaveling, with all his faults, had a man's heart; and there were few who could look him in the eyes on the day of his anger.

But you! Look there, rat, on yonder field where the cows graze, and on that other beyond, and on the orchard hard by the church.

Do you know that all these were squeezed out of your dying father by greedy priests, to pay for your upbringing in the cloisters?
I, the Socman, am shorn of my lands that you may snivel Latin and eat bread for which you never did hand's turn.