A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
We do.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
You know, beside, his boasted armament, The famed Armada, by the Pope baptized, With purpose to invade these realms—

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
Is sailed, Our last advices so report.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
While the Iberian admiral’s chief hope, His darling son—

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
Ferolo Whiskerandos hight—

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
The same—by chance a prisoner hath been ta’en, And in this fort of Tilbury—

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
Is now Confined—’tis true, and oft from yon tall turret’s top I’ve mark’d the youthful Spaniard’s haughty mien Unconquer’d, though in chains.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
You also know—Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter go on telling him?

PUFF.
But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing of the matter, are they? Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason why Sir Walter should be so communicative.

PUFF.
’Fore Gad, now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever heard!—for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more, I think, you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you’d know nothing of the matter without it.