" "I'm sorry. ’ ‘But where then is Gosse?’ demanded Melusine. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. Your purposes are defeated. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, 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! III.
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