"Read that. 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. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. But he reckoned without his host. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. All our fraternity are afraid of him; but I laugh at his threats. ‘And nor do I. " "With a face as square and flat as a bottle of gin. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. It was ended. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three.
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