"By your leave, I shall prepare this my wounded lamb for that account to which your man's cruelty has untimely sent him." The wounded man, who lay upon the floor, heard Parsons' voice, and moaned for the "Patrico." "You see, sir," said he, pompously, "the sheep know their shepherd's voice." "The wolves you mean, you hypocritical scoundrel!" said Amyas, who could not contain his disgust.

"Let the fellow truss up his points, lads, and do his work.

After all, the man is dying." "The requisite matters, sir, are not at hand," said Parsons, unabashed.
"Eustace, go and fetch his matters for him; you seem to be in all his plots." Eustace went silently and sullenly.
"What's that fresh noise at the back, now ?" "The maid, sir, a wailing over her uncle; the fellow that we saw sneak away when we came up.

It was him the horse killed." It was true.

The wretched host had slipped off on their approach, simply to call the neighboring outlaws to the spoil; and he had been filled with the fruit of his own devices.
"His blood be on his own head," said Amyas.
"I question, sir," said Yeo, in a low voice, "whether some of it will not be on the heads of those proud prelates who go clothed in purple and fine linen, instead of going forth to convert such as he, and then wonder how these Jesuits get hold of them.