And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. Brendon felt his arm seized. She drank it obediently. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. " "Since you require it, I must obey," replied Kneebone; "but prepare yourself for a terrible shock.
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