If you desire to please me, you will go. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Here he was hotly pursued. Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. Nothing is wrong that you do. A man’s children nowadays are not his own. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first.
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