By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not.
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