By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. But there was an abiding serpent in this Eden. The others hurried to the window.
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