Charles Reade,
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages
“ He almost ran not to hear these sighs and sobs."Why, mate," said Denys, "art the colour of a lemon. Man alive, take not other folks' troubles to heart! not one of those whining milksops there but would see thee, a stranger, hanged without winking."Gerard scarce listened to him."Decant them?" he groaned: "ay, if blood were no thicker than wine. Princes, ye are wolves. Poor things! Poor things! Ah, Denys! Denys! with looking on their grief mine own comes home to me. ”
