The poem runs: When getting married, you ought to pick a girl of equivalent status; Whether aristocrat or peasant, you should first weigh up your own position.
Heathcliff--Mr Heathcliff I should say in future--used the liberty of visiting at Thrushcross Grange cautiously, at first: he seemed estimating how far its owner would bear his intrusion.
Griff weighed that for a moment. " Understand this, dwarf. You are the last and least of our company. Hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had" .