On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. “Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. How came you, Sir," he continued, addressing Sheppard, "to venture upon that frame. "Aha!" exclaimed Jack, with a roguish wink, "I've caught you,—have I?" The carpenter's daughter was fair and free— Fair, and fickle, and false, was she! She slighted the journeyman, (meaning me!) And smiled on a gallant of high degree.
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