‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. “He ran some Austrian fellow off. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. But it was only six-thirty. 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. Wild is a great man," said the hangman, replenishing his pipe, "and we owe him much, and ought to support him. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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