Och, murther! faix, some spell my pipe bewishes, I've played a wail and raised the little fishes. |
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O'er blows the filthy and contagious clouds Of headly murther, spoil, and villainy. |
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And further I imagined and sayd, Alasse what Judge is he that is so gentle or benigne, that will thinke that I am unguilty of the slaughter and murther of these three men. |
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