They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. Kneebone made his appearance. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. 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.
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