Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. Kneebone, who had drained his glass to the restoration of the house of Stuart, and the downfall of the house of Hanover, more frequently than was consistent with prudence, consented; and the trio set out for Wych Street, where they arrived in the jolliest humour possible. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. . At the head of the cart was placed the coffin.
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