You could not regard Hugh Calveley without feeling he was a man to die a martyr in any cause he had espoused.
A deep groan was now directed against him.

But it moved not a muscle of his rigid countenance.
Jocelyn began to fear from the menacing looks of the crowd that some violence might be attempted, and he endeavoured to check it.
"Bear with him, worthy friends," he cried, "he means you well, though he may reprove you somewhat too sharply." "Beshrew him for an envious railer," cried a miller, "he mars all our pleasures with his peevish humours.

He would have us all as discontented with the world as himself--but we know better.

He will not let us have our lawful sports as enjoined by the King himself on Sundays, and he now tries to interfere with our recreations on holidays.

A pest upon him for a cankerbitten churl!" "His sullen looks are enough to turn all the cream in the village sour," observed an old dame.
"Why doth he not betake himself to the conventicle and preach there ?" old Greenford cried.