Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see 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. ” She said bitterly. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. ’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. "I wonder," said Ruth. . In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea.
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