I will tell you this much, because you have been kind. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. 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. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow.
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