“But no services could assuage the wrath of Rinda; when he was fain to kiss her she cuffed him. For this stubborn-hearted maiden never doubted that the crafty old man was feigning generosity in order to seize an opening to work his lust.” […]
“. The duke spurred on his horse, and aimed a blow at him, but he stooped, and so escaped the stroke; then jumping on one side, he lifted his hatchet aloft, and as the duke bent to avoid the blow, the Englishman boldly struck him on the head, and beat in his helmet, though without doing much injury.” […]
Once, indeed, it happened that this pontiff, meeting with a repulse from the king relative to some petition which he had urged, angrily turned his back in retiring, and threatened him with a curse instead of a blessing. The king, unable to bear his displeasure, fell at his feet, entreating forgiveness, and promising amendment.” […]
“Beneath it there was a stone slab, with a leaden cross attached to its underside. I have seen this cross myself and I have traced the lettering which read as follows: HERE IN THE ISLE OF AVALON LIES BURIED THE RENOWNED KING ARTHUR, WITH GUINERERE, HIS SECOND WIFE.” […]
“For whilst, in great jubilation of spirit, he was honouring the funeral rites of Rolf with a feast, he drank too greedily.” […]
“Gurth saw the English falling around, and that there was no remedy. He saw his race hastening to ruin, and despaired of any aid; he would have fled, but could not, for the throng continually increased.” […]
“After every gentle shower, there exudes real, and as it were recent, blood, as though it were evidently proclaiming by this circumstance, that the voice of so much Christian gore still cries to the Lord from the ground, which hath opened her mouth, and drunk in that blood at the hands of Christian brethren.” […]
“When he left they questioned him closely and asked him who he really was. He said that he had been born to some rustic bedlam in the same parish, fathered on her by an incubus who had appeared in the shape of her husband.” […]
“However, Thor was swinging his club with marvellous might, and shattered all interposing shields, calling as loudly on his foes to attack him as upon his friends to back him up. No kind of armour withstood his onset, no man could receive his stroke and live.” […]
“You are surely not fitly placed here among the dead. Many an Englishman lies bloody and mingled with the dead, but yet sound, or only wounded and besmeared with gore; tarrying of his own accord, and meaning to rise at night, and escape in the darkness. They would delight to take their revenge, and would sell their lives dearly; no one of them caring who killed him afterwards, if he but slew a Norman first; for they say we have done them much wrong.” […]
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