Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Little more’n a week. At length, he fell down on the road, fully expecting each moment would prove his last.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 14:37:39