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. He was so horny that he could probably make love to a tree. "What is he gone there for?" "With a message to the turnkey to look after his prisoner," replied Wild, with a cunning smile. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not.
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