Fate has two methods of procedure—the sudden and the long-drawn-out. It throbs cruelly. Well, let's beat it to the hotel. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. 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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