"There, mother, I knew he liked me, for all thou saidst my borrowing of his sword and cloak did anger him. Every one likes me. Couthin Mary says so."
"Vain popinjay! thou art too credulous of flattery."
"Would Couthin Mary tell a lie?"
"Never mind that question now, but don thy best clothing for the ceremony of receiving the homage of thy tenant this morning."
"Hooray! Am I to wear my morocco shoes with the red satin roses?"
"Ay."
"And my thilver-broidered doublet?"
"Ay, little peacock."
"And my stockings with the clocks of gold? Oh, Mother, it makes me feel so grand! I like being lord of the manor. And Thir Chrithtopher Neville must kneel before me; and how if I tickle him on the neck when he bends, and make him laugh out before them all?"
"Cecil, if thou dost disgrace me by any of thy clownish pranks, thou and I will never be friends more. And give thyself no airs either with this kind new friend. Say to thyself, when he bows before thee, that it is strength bending to weakness, and pride stooping that it may help the helpless."