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. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock away from the jetty. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. "Stay!" said Jonathan, aiding his descent; "you had better take my lantern. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. “A little nervous. Leonardo had taught her pretty well everything she could have need to know, when they had talked long at his bedside. "It's Jonathan Wild come back with a troop of constables at his heels, to search the house," rejoined Mrs.
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