" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. " "May be," returned the man gravely. Jonathan Wild, at this time, was on the high-road to the greatness which he subsequently, and not long afterwards, obtained. From your pocket there. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. Get nothing out of me. Wudd I'm here, and have brought him a message from his unlawful son, and don't be detainin' me, my darlin', for there's not a minute to lose if the poor lad's to be recused from the clutches of that thief and thief-taker o' the wurld, Jonathan Wild. Old London Bridge.
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