I'm Samuel Cheesacre of Oileymead, and it's all my own." Mr Cheesacre, as he thus spoke of his good fortunes and firm standing in the world, became impetuous in the energy of the moment, and brought down his fist powerfully on the slight table before them.

The whole fabric rattled, and the boat resounded, but the noise he had made seemed to assist him.

"It's all my own, Mrs Greenow, and the half of it shall be yours if you'll please to take it;" then he stretched out his hand to her, not as though he intended to grasp hers in a grasp of love, but as if he expected some hand-pledge from her as a token that she accepted the bargain.
"If you'd known Greenow, Mr Cheesacre--" "I've no doubt he was a very good sort of man." "If you'd known him, you would not have addressed me in this way." "What difference would that make?
My idea is that care killed a cat, as I said before.

I never knew what was the good of being unhappy.
If I find early mangels don't do on a bit of land, then I sow late turnips; and never cry after spilt milk.

Greenow was the early mangels; I'll be the late turnips.