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. "Let him alone," said Trenchard authoritatively, "I have another question to propose. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. Monsieur Charvill, he is also my cousin.
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