d nothing but as he directed or commanded them.

The morning before the murder of Thomas Ball, Burnworth, and Barton,
whom we have before mentioned, pitched upon the house of an old Justice
of the Peace of Clerkenwell, to whom they had a particular pique for
having formerly committed Burnworth, and proposed it to their companions
to break it open that night, or rather the next morning (for it was
about one of the clock). They put their design in execution and executed
it successfully, carrying off some things of real value, and a
considerable parcel of what they took to be silver plate. With this they
went into the fields above Islington, and from thence to Copenhagen
House, where they spent the greatest part of the day. On parting the
booty Burnworth perceived what they had taken for silver was nothing
more than a gilt metal, at which he in a rage would have thrown it away;
Barton opposed it, and said they should be able to sell it for
something, to which Burnworth replied that it was good for nothing but
to discover them, and therefore it should not be preserved at any rate.
Upon this they differed, and while they were debating, came Blewit,
Berry, Dickenson, Higgs, Wilson, Levee, and Marjoram, who joined the
company. Burnworth and Barton agreed to toss up at whose disposal the
silver ware should be, they did so, and it fell to Burnworth to dispose
of it as he thought fit, upon which he carried it immediately to the New
River side, and threw it in there, adding that he was sorry he had not
the old Justice himself there, to share the same fate, being really as
much out of humour at the thing as if the Justice had imposed upon them
in a fair sale of the commodity, so easy a thing is it for men to impose
upon themselves.

As it happened they were all present pretty full of money, and so under
no necessity of going upon any enterprise directly, wherefore they
loitered up and down the fields until towards evening, when they thought
they might venture unto town, and pass the time in their usual pleasures
of drinking, gaming, and whoring. While they were thus (as the French
say) murdering of time, a comrade of theirs came up puffing and blowing
as if ready to break his heart. As soon as he reached them, _Lads_,
says he, _beware of one thing; the constables have been all about Chick
Lane in search of folk of our profession, and if ye venture to the house
where we were to have met to-night, 'tis ten to one but we are all
take