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All's Fish that comes to net.
These damned Dice (I thinke) if truth were known,Are made of diuels horne, or Diues bone.
Aboue a hundred pound I lost last night,
But woe to them that next appeare in sight:
For whome they are, or whence so e're they bee,
My money double and their deaths Ile see.
Bring me a Canne of wine boy, quickly lad,
Put in Gun-powder, for ile drinke me mad.
Get cords and sticks to turne about their braines:
They'le ne're confesse vnlesse a man take paines,
And wring it out of them euen in despight:
Or burne their fingers ends with candle light.
Where they haue hid their money they'le denie:
What mercy to such villaines, that will lie
To gentlemen like we, that ventrous winne,
And haue no other trade of comming in?
I make as much account to kill a flea,
As rob my father if we meet at sea.
Be who it will, a stranger or my brother:
Conscience is one thing, stealing is another.
As Constables forget their friends in watch:
So weele know no man, when his goods we catch.
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