Kneebone, on his return from Manchester. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. Here you only waste your time. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. .
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