’ She grimaced. " "It must be restored instantly,—be the consequences what they may. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. I told her it was the end. She was not a Christian woman. 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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