Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. “I do hope you will see how things are, and not be offended with me or frightfully shocked and distressed by what I have done. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. You cannot depart hence. We aren’t worth it. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. See paragraph 1.
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