A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

JUSTICE.
Ha! sure some powerful sympathy directs Us both—

Enter CONSTABLE with SON. What is thy name?

SON.
My name is Tom Jenkins—alias have I none—Though orphan’d, and without a friend!

JUSTICE.
Thy parents?

SON.
My father dwelt in Rochester—and was, As I have heard—a fishmonger—no more.

PUFF.
What, sir, do you leave out the account of your birth, parentage, and education?

SON.
They have settled it so, sir, here.

PUFF.
Oh! oh! Lady.
How loudly nature whispers to my heart Had he no other name?

SON.
I’ve seen a bill Of his sign’d Tomkins, creditor.

JUSTICE.
This does indeed confirm each circumstance The gipsy told!—Prepare!