6. Ye shall not murder each other, save it be by my own commands, for purposes that may be known to me alone; but of your enemies, and all those nations that will not acknowledge your, and my, greatness, ye may kill an infinite number; for that is a pleasing sight in the eyes of your supreme commander. 7. Ye shall not commit adultery at home, whatever ye may do in the land of infidels, and the stiff-necked people; for they are an abomination to the Lord, your Commander. 8. Ye shall not steal at home, but suppress your covetousness, and insatiable desire of plunder, until ye may arrive in the land of our enemies. Ye shall neither steal from them with indiscretion, but seem to give with the left hand, when the right taketh. 9. Ye shall not bear false witness against your neighbour, if he should distinguish himself in the land of the enemies. 10. Ye shall not covet any thing of your neighbour, but everything of your enemies; his jewels, his gold, his silver, his horse or ass, his maid, his daughter, his wife, or anything in which your hearts find delight; and ye may take it, but still with cunning; for the Lord, your Commander, loveth mildness, more than strength, to please the people when he plunders.--Use the sword in battle, cunning after it, look for plunder, but subject the people to me;--herein lie all my commandments, and those who keep them shall be protected by my power and prosper in all my undertakings. MASTER BONEY’S HEARTY WELCOME TO ENGLAND. _Being the Song of Songs, and worth all the Songs in the World put together._ To be sung, or said, by every Jovial Fellow, who is a True Lover of our good King and most happy Constitution. Should Boney come hither, our Britons declare, They’d flog the dog well--you may surely guess where: While others have vow’d, they would hang him as high, As Haman the Jew--’twixt the earth and the sky. Boney down, down, down, Boney down. Some say they will treat him no better than fleas, And ’twixt thumb and finger they’ll give him a squeeze; Whilst some by the ears, the vile Ruffian they’ll lug, And others will give him a good Cornish hug. Boney down, &c. Nay, many would clap him in cage for a show, At two pence a piece, Sirs--the price is too low: Whilst others would drive him post haste to the Tower, A _tit-bit_ for tygers and wolves to devour. Boney down, &c. Stand by, says young Snip, don’t you see my bold shears? For the least I will have, is his nose or his ears; Says the Cook, I will baste him, and humble his pride, Cries the Tanner, Pox take him, I’ll tan his vile hide. Boney down, &c.