" Jonathan hastily picked up the pen, and presented it to Trenchard, who attached his signature to the document. “Our business here is the right way. 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. ’ Shock ripped through Charvill’s chest. I always fall on my feet, you know. The Storm. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked.
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