"I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. 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. ” He was slightly tipsy. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. I admired your chivalry. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. ‘Parbleu, but I find that this is excessively clever, this passage. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. "He understands me, you perceive," said Hogarth. "Not proud in the least, I declare.
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