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By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. " "Marriage and hanging go by destiny," observed Wood, after a pause; "but I trust your child is reserved for a better fate than either, Mrs. Nothing has gone wrong here?" "Nothing whatever," replied Ireton. " "No fear of that," laughed Kneebone. Believe me, it will be better by far that you should consent to marry me. Hey. Mr. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. "I thought we were going to have some music," she said.
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