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Updated: June 10, 2025
King Mark, on hearing this, burst into a fury of passion, and seizing a sword, ran to where Tristram stood. Here he violently berated him as a traitor, and struck at him a furious blow. But Tristram took the sword-point under his arm, and ran in on the king, wresting the weapon from his hand. "Where are my knights and men?" cried the enraged king. "I charge you to kill this traitor!"
We all stood silent, while Kipping berated Bill with many oaths, though poor Bill was so white and miserable that it was almost more than we could endure. I, for one, thought of his little girl in Newburyport, and I remember that I hoped she might never know of what her loving, stupid old father was suffering.
He had, too, a censorious word for the French commercially called them "peddlers," celebrated their deceitful wiles, underrated the quality of their cloths, and inconsistently berated them for their low prices, finding a logical parity in all these matters in the tenets of their religion, which they had so vainly and so zealously sought to instill into the unreceptive hearts of the unimpressionable Choctaw.
Then Sumter and Stannard came in, tumultuous, and ordered him down, and Blake and Curbit, and the rest of the card party, came tearing after them, and berated him for an absurdity, and implored him not to be an ass.
Hands lifted Rick and Scotty to their feet and voices demanded to know what had happened. Other voices berated them, calling them a pair of young idiots for rushing a ghost like that. Rick staggered in the grip of the supporting hands. His heart was pounding and there was a constriction in his chest.
But some time was to elapse ere he could execute this praiseworthy intention; for before he could cross the threshold the landlord of The Pike appeared, berated him, and ordered him to be more civil in the performance of his duties. The words were intended less for the waiter than for the feather dealer and his friends.
On my way I soundly berated myself for my folly in venturing so recklessly and without authority to interfere in behalf of a sheep, when besieged by wolves, and in danger of losing no more than his fleece. I had lost all interest in Farmer Camp, and felt not a spark of philanthropy in my whole being. But the White City was a place of surprises, and Farmer Camp and I were destined to meet again.
His name was Joe Hopper, a ne'er-do-well whose children, by working at the mill, supported him in idleness. Catching the child, he berated it and boxed its ears soundly. Jack was at work, but turning, and seeing the child chastised, he came at the man with quiet fury. With one huge hand in Joe Hopper's collar, he boxed his ears until he begged for mercy.
How many times have I berated the day I was born! To have lived in that day, to have been a part of that bewildering war panorama; from Toulon to Waterloo! Pardon; perhaps I bore you?" "By George, no! I'm as bad, if not worse. I shall never forgive one of my forebears for serving under Wellington." "Nor I one of mine for serving under Blücher!" They laughed aloud this time.
One of them was sensitive, timid, affectionate, and idealistic. Being a healthy, active boy, there was a great deal of mischief in him, and in her attempts to discipline him the mother scolded, berated, and often cuffed and slapped him, occasionally administering a whipping.
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