Parte,  Chap.
1   I,      XVII|        returned Sancho - "woe betide me and all my kindred!-why
2   I,     XXXIV|    than taking your life. Ill betide my master, Anselmo, for
3   I,     XLVII|     can be no liberality. Ill betide the devil! if it had not
4  II,        XL|    made game of by pages. Ill betide the jade that in the flower
5  II,    LXVIII|      nor glory; and good luck betide him that invented sleep,
6  II,       LXX| quitted the room.~ ~"Ill luck betide thee, poor damsel," said
7  II,       LXX|        said Sancho, "ill luck betide thee! Thou hast fallen in
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