But for that I'd ha' spitted him like a partridge.

By the time I was on my legs the mob were after him.

I joined in the hue and cry and we ran him down to your house.

Now then, where's his hiding hole?
It'll mean a matter o' twenty guineas in your pocket to give him up." "Blood money! I don't earn my living that way.

You could have spared your breath, Rofflash.