Are ye not two beggarly retainers, trencher-parasites, to John?
I think ye rank above his footmen.

A sort of bed and board worms--locusts that infest our house; a leprosy that long has hung upon its walls and princely apartments, reaching to fill all the corners of my brother's once noble heart.
_Gray_.

We are his friends.
_Simon_.

Fie, sir, do not weep.

How these rogues will triumph! Shall I whip off their heads, father?
[_Draws_.
_Lovel_.