. This also struck her as odd. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned. 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. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell.
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