"Here," he said to the Temple lawyer, "here we have the matter duly executed. And here," he continued, "I will prove our right."
"Stay," said the Temple lawyer, "if I remember rightly, there is no mention of this place in the Conqueror's survey."
"A fico for the Conqueror and his survey," cried Grasp; "trouble not yourself upon that subject; mark and perpend—from Geoffrey Clinton it descended to the Verduns in marriage with Leosceline, daughter of that same Geoffrey, as did also the manors of Brandon, and I take it—"
"On my word," roared a tall Alsatian-looking fellow at the long table, "I take it that this Romeus and Julietta, or whatever else 'tis called, is the most exquisite piece ever submitted to a crowned head."
"A pestilence seize Romulus and Julia," said Grasp; "how that fellow bawls. And now, sirs, that name Anselm de Clinton, of whom I was before speaking, was first enfeoffed thereof."
"Up with his heels then," cried one of the dicers, as he threw. "Play. Ha! seven by Old Paul's. More sack, drawer!"
"The fiend sack those dicers," said Grasp, "marry and amen; as I was saying, good sir, by a multitude of testimonies I can prove—"
"A lie, knave, throw again." "Ha! ha!" roared another of the gamblers.
"They are certified to hold it," continued Grasp, "of that family by the service of half a knight's fee, and they of the Earls of Warwick. Now my client here—"
"A cheater, I'll be sworn. A murrain take thee!" cried another of the gamblers.