“It was poison—why not?” she answered. She laid her hand upon his arm. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, Crying, "Keep it till call'd for by JONATHAN WILD! "The rascal one day, "Will pass by this way, "And drink a full measure to moisten his clay! "And never will Bowl of Saint Giles have beguiled "Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as JONATHAN WILD!" V. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. The fire still burned brightly.
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