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VII.

[Lam.]
Think, when with bloody axes in our hands,
We are to fight for gold and silver too,
On neighbour's myndbruch life no one then stands,
But all his aim and end is—death to do.


260

Rob.
I've thought on all and am resolved to go;
Fortune! no more I'll be thy taunted slave,
Once was I great, now plunged in want and woe,
I'll go and be a pick-hatch of the wave.
Goods I have none, and life I do disdain,
I'll be a victor, or I'll break my galling chain.
I'll wash my hands in blood and deal in death,
Our ship shall blow along with winds of dying breath.