"Paul Clifford", Chapter 34, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton

O Fortuna, viris invida fortibus
Quam non aqua bonis praemia dividis.
SENECA.

............
And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew.
............
Here, to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still.
GOLDSMITH.

----

With only two more chapters to go after this one, it's all starting to come together!

"Of Law, nothing less can be said than that her seat is the bosom of God.": The author here gives us a citation for this: Hooker's "Ecclesiastical Polity."
(Or more fully, "Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity" by Richard Hooker.)

unvitiated: pure and uncorrupted

Belcher handkerchief: a blue-and-white spotted neckerchief, though the term is applied loosely to any particoloured handkerchief tied round the neck. Named after James Belcher, an English bare-knuckle prize-fighter and Champion of All England.

adieu, as opposed to au revoir - I asked an actual Frenchman I know about the difference, and au revoir suggests meeting again in the future, while adieu suggests goodbye forever. It reminds me of the scene in Babylon 5 of Delenn leaving the station for the last time: When I had to learn English, one of the most difficult words for me was "goodbye." There is no corresponding word for "goodbye" in Minbari. All our partings contain within them the possibility of meeting again: in other places, in other times, in other lives. So you will excuse me if I do not say "goodbye."

Pays Bas is French for low countries (Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg). I can't find any references to it as an area or street in London, so perhaps it is used here as some form of argot? Just a guess. If you grok it, please leave a comment below!

Regarding "O palaces four yards high, with a dome in the middle, meant to be invisible!" the author includes the following footnote in the text: We must not suppose this apostrophe to be an anachronism. Tomlinson, of course, refers to some palace of his day; one of the boxes-Christmas boxes-given to the king by his economical nation of shopkeepers. We suppose it is either pulled down or blown down long ago; it is doubtless forgotten by this time, except by antiquaries. Nothing is so ephemeral as great houses built by the people. Your kings play the deuce with their playthings!

delf, a.k.a. Delft: a style of tin-glazed earthenware, usually blue and white, traditionally made in the Netherlands

hob: a flat metal shelf at the side or back of a fireplace, having its surface level with the top of the grate and used especially for heating pans

blattergowl: a character of Sir Walter Scott's in "The Antiquary". Not having read the work, I can't suggest what characteristics he is possessed of that apply in this context - if you are familiar with the character, leave a comment below with his character qualities!

Brummel: George Bryan "Beau" Brummell, an English dandy of this time period and well regarded for his fashion sense.

fogle: a silk handkerchief; a filcher of fogles: a pickpocket

bulkie: this has a number of interesting meanings around a specific type of food and the restaurants that serve it, but in this case the word slang for police officer or constable

queer cuffin: magistrate

bob: shilling

gossoon: Irish for young boy, especially a servant or lackey

gammon: this took on a new meaning about 10 years ago, but if you go way back 200 years ago, we have the expressions "give gammon" as to give cover to a pickpocket, or "keep in gammon" to distract a victim for a pickpocket. So clearly Ned started his career in some capacity related to pickpocketing. Which is presumably related in some unexplained way to his current disdain for those of that profession.

After the word 'gammon', the author has a footnote for us, answering some questions I had way back in the first couple of chapters of this book: The reader has probably observed the use made by Dummie and Mrs. Lobkins of Irish phraseology or pronunciation. This is a remarkable trait in the dialect of the lowest orders in London, owing, we suppose, to their constant association with emigrants from "the first flower of the earth." Perhaps it is a modish affectation among the gentry of St. Giles's, just as we eke out our mother-tongue with French at Mayfair.

funked: from the Scottish, meaning afraid or panicked

Some footnotes from the author here -
crack a swell's crib: break into a gentleman's house
cracksman: burglar
fenced the swag: sold the booty
napped the regulars: took our shares

The picture used is "London Slums" by Gustave Doré. Yes, the same picture as from chapter 1, because this chapter primarily takes place in the same place as chapter 1. I know, a bit lazy on my part, but I couldn't find anything better.

To follow along: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/7735/7735-h/7735-h.htm#link2HCH0034