SCENE II.
Reading edition
Newgate. Clincher Senior, solus.
Clinch. sen. How severe and melancholy are Newgate reflections! Last week my father died; yesterday I turned beau; to-day I am laid by the heels, and to-morrow shall be hung by the neck.——I was agreeing with a bookseller about printing an account of my journey through France and Italy; but now the history of my travels must be through Holborn, to Tyburn.—"The last dying speech of Beau Clincher, that was going to the Jubilee—Come, a halfpenny a-piece."—A sad sound, a sad sound, 'faith! 'Tis one way to make a man's death make a great noise in the world.
Enter Tom Errand.
A reprieve! a reprieve! thou dear, dear—damned rogue. Where have you been? Thou art the most welcome—son of a whore; where's my clothes?
Tom. Sir, I see where mine are. Come, sir, strip, sir, strip.
Clinch. sen. Sir, you cannot master me, for I am twenty thousand strong.
[Exeunt, struggling.