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Poem by John Heywood Of Catching a Fly A boy on his book clapped hand to catch a fly. “Hast her?” cried his master. “Nay, God wot I.” “Then thou shalt drink!” “Master, I have her, I think.” “If thou have her,” said the master, “thou shalt drink.” To furious masters, what helpeth fair speeches? Flies caught, or not caught, up go boys’ breeches! John Heywood John Heywood's other poems:
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