No one in the world is beyond the shaft of scandal— we all catch it terribly sometimes. It’s all nonsense. I saw him first a few months ago at Mrs. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair. 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. This way there will be not so much shame, and the vicomte will let them remain.
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