A huge, ragged multitude had poured into the High Street from St.Martin's Lane, jostling, fighting, cursing, eager for devilment, no matter what.

They rushed to the hostelries, they surrounded the street sellers of gin, demanding the fiery poisonous stuff for which they had no intention of paying.
The landlord of the "Maiden Head" hurried into the room somewhat perturbed.
"Best shut the window, gentlemen," said he.

"This vile scum's none too nice.

Anything it wants it'll take without so much as by your leave, or with your leave." "What does it mean, landlord ?" asked Bolingbroke.
"Oh's all over Jack Sheppard.

The people are mad about the rascal just because the turnkeys couldn't hold him, nor prison walls for the matter o' that.