Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly. \"Some of them don't smell so good. His tongue was hot. I must finish it at home.
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