Won't you, Jack?" "That I will," answered Sheppard, eagerly. . 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. It is known that I am Melusine Charvill, which is also my right. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber.
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