The following is the style of “gag” and “patter” of a man formerly well-known in the “Dials” as “Tragedy Bill”--“Now, my friends, here you have, just printed and published, a full, true, and pertickler account of the life, trial, character, confession, behaviour, condemnation, and hexecution of that unfortunate malefactor, Richard Wilbyforce, who was hexecuted on Monday last, for the small charge of one ha’penny, and for the most horrible, dreadful, and wicked murder of Samuel--I means Sarah Spriggens, a lady’s maid, young, tender, and handsome. You have here every pertickler, of that which he did, and that which he didn’t. It’s the most foul and horrible murder that ever graced the annals of British history(?) Here, my customers, you may read his hexecution on the fatal scaffold. You may also read how he met his victim in a dark and lonesome wood, and what he did to her--for the small charge of a ha’penny; and, further, you read how he brought her to London,--after that comes the murder, which is worth all the money. And you read how the ghost appeared to him and then to her parents. Then comes the capture of the _willain_; also the trial, sentence, and hexecution, showing how the ghost was in the act of pulling his leg on one side, and the ‘old gentleman’ a pulling on the other, waiting for his victim (my good friends excuse my tears!) But as Shakspeare says, ‘Murder most foul and unnatural,’ but you’ll find this more foul and unnatural than that or the t’other--for the small charge of a ha’penny! Yes, my customers, to which is added a copy of serene and beautiful werses, pious and immoral, as wot he wrote with his own blood and skewer the night after--I mean the night before his hexecution, addressed to young men and women of all sexes--I beg pardon, but, I mean classes (my friends its nothing to laugh at), for I can tell you the werses is made three of the hard-heartedest things cry as never was--to wit, that is to say namely--a overseer, a broker, and a policeman. Yes, my friends, I sold twenty thousand copies of them this here morning, and could of sold twenty thousand more than that if I could of but kept from crying--only a ha’penny!--but I’ll read the werses. Come all you blessed Christians dear, That’s a-tender, kind, and free, While I a story do relate Of a dreadful tragedy, Which happened in London town, As you shall all be told; But when you hear the horrid deed ’Twill make your blood run cold.-- _For the small charge of a ha’penny!_ ’Twas in the merry month of May, When my true love I did meet; She look’d all like an angel bright, So beautiful and sweet. I told her I loved her much, And she could not say nay; ’Twas then I strung her tender heart, And led her all astray.-- _Only a ha’penny!_