‘Alcide’ or no ‘Alcide,’ there is not a music hall manager in London or Paris who would not give you an engagement on your own merits. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds. 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. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life.
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