"I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. At length, however, by dealing blows right and left with their swords, and even inflicting severe cuts on the foremost of the rabble, the soldiers managed to gain a clear course, and to drive back the assailants; who, as they retreated behind the barricades, shouted in tones of defiance, "To Tyburn! to Tyburn!" The object of all this tumult, meanwhile, never altered his position, but sat back in the cart, as if resolved not to make even a struggle to regain his liberty. ‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed.
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