‘You will not guess again?’ ‘No, no, I am quite out of ideas. I can’t imagine what possessed you, Veronica. And, though the villain can't see his orders executed, I've no doubt some one else will. 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. I wouldn't keep an apprentice to set my authority at defiance.
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