” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger. 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. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming.
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