Sir H. Stay, madam, [To Lady Darling.] one word; is there no other way to redress your wrongs, but by fighting?
Lady D. Only one, sir; which, if you can think of, you may do: you know the business I entertained you for.
Sir H. I understand you, madam. [Exit Lady Darling.] Here am I brought to a very pretty dilemma. I must commit murder, or commit matrimony; which is the best now? a license from Doctors' Commons, or a sentence from the Old Bailey?—If I kill my man, the law hangs me; if I marry my woman, I shall hang myself.——But, damn it—cowards dare fight:—I'll marry, that's the most daring action of the two. Exit.
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.