"In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. You've heard the news, I suppose?" "That the death warrant's arrived," returned Edgeworth Bess, bursting into a flood of tears; "oh, yes! we've heard it. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. I must know what new thing has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a monster the next. 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. “You shall,” she said.
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