"'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily. ” She pulled her dress back over her breasts, glad for the elastic that she had sewn in. 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.
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