each unto
each, or
of the
whole folk
unto them
twain. To
no man did
Christopher
mete out
worse than
his
deserts,
nay, to
most far
better he
meted: no
man he
feared,
nor hated
any save
the
tormentors
of poor
folk; and
but a
little
while
abided his
hatred of
those, for
it cut
short
their
lives, so
that they
were
speedily
done with
and
forgotten.
And when
he died a
very old
man but
one year
after
Goldilind
his dear,
no king
that ever
