But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. Would you mind drawing them back?” Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. ” “Do you drink blood?” He stood up. You are not a tourist seeking adventure. 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. Jack Sheppard warns Thames Darrell 284 VIII.
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