The world is known to you. 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. “I want to lay all my life at your feet. Give me but leave to try. " So saying, he unlocked the door and strode out of the room. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.
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