"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" "The first day you came. 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. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. And every day's experience proves that I was right. That's the way she strikes me. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life.
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