There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism. 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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