SCENE II.

_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._