FATHER BENEDICT--

(_At the door, buckling his cloak about him_.)

Go your way; I go mine.

ABBOT-- I don't believe it.

I don't believe it. It smacks too like the charge

That he called you a dog. If you can prove

That any word of his caused Jardin's death,

I will attend to him.

FATHER BENEDICT--By cursing me.

The Saxons: A Drama of Christianity in the North · 第 117 / 139 题