Forthwith he presented his card. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. "I wish merely to come out of this bargain honourably. “The nurse will fetch the doctor directly. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St.
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