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Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. . But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside. What would happen when confronted by the actual? He was young; she was also young and physically beautiful—his lawful wife. "Wretch!" cried Jack. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. "At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs.
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