 The devil, you say? I'll be coming back at you in a second for more of the same. Now, me old bucko, what you be saying? You heard the words from our own lips. Confess I've beat you. Own up to it like a man when you've been beat fair and square. And here's my hand to you. I'll let you take it and we'll shake and forget what's over and done and be friends from this out. I don't shake hands with you, fella. Not while I live. The back of my hand to you, then, if it suits you better. Tis a rotten bad loser you are, devil, mind you. I don't lose.