" "Oh. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. ” She blushed deeply. In this state Mrs. Stanley. ” He said as they parted company. " "Excepting your father. “As my lady wills. ToC Thames Darrell's fears were not, however, groundless. I wonder——” He turned slowly round. Old Newgate 302 X. "Are you not content with the crimes you have committed, —but you must carry your villany to this point.
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