" And, as the weights were removed, he fainted. 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. He saw the tragedy on the boy's face; but he was merciless. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. Oh! Jack, Jack, you've much to answer for!" "I have, indeed," replied Sheppard, in a tone of contrition. A dog appeared unexpectedly upon the threshold. The doctor laughed.
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