U. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II. Certainly as soon as I have found my right place at Remenham House, I must find out everything.
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