Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, 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! II. Sebastian had come to visit his old friend and former wife. He suddenly realized that he could not keep you for ever in this part of the world; so he sends you to your aunt. "You will find it true," replied Blueskin. That bruise will answer the same purpose. "No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting.
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