” “But you,” she exclaimed, “you are not coming. ‘That’s not much comfort. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. 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. Ennison reeled, and almost fell.
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