To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. But it's confounded inconvenient. 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. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. ” She pressed her ear to the door. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle.
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