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. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. “I remember when you walked me home. ’ ‘Ah, that is good,’ sighed the lady. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. ToC The noise of this disturbance did not fail to reach the interior of the prison.
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