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Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. "Mr. We did not know where to send … in case you died. ” The note of his own voice exasperated him. ” “No. She had fallen asleep. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes.
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