Call me '_man of letters_' if you will; to-night the dogs tear that soft skin of yours, while my hide is sound.

Now off for the Porta Esquilina! Trot along with you!" and he swung his lash over the wretched boy's shoulders.
Agias was led out into the street.

He was too pained and numbed to groan, resist, or even think and fear.

The thongs might well have been said to press his mind as much as his skin..