|Enter Boy, with the box.|
|Boy.||My master hath forbidden me to look in this box;|
and, by my troth, 'tis likely, if he had not warned me,
I should not have had so much idle time; for we
men's-kind, in our minority, are like women in their
uncertainty: that they are most forbidden, they will
soonest attempt: so I now.--By my bare honesty,
here's nothing but the bare empty box: were it
not sin against secrecy, I would say it were a piece of
gentlemanlike knavery. I must go to Pedringano,
and tell him his pardon is in this box; nay, I would
have sworn it, had I not seen the contrary.--I cannot
choose but smile to think how the villain will flout
the gallows, scorn the audience, and descant on the
hangman,and all presuming of his pardon from hence.
Will't not be an odd jest for me to stand and grace
every jest he makes, pointing my finger at this box,
as who would say: 'Mock on, here's thy warrant.'
Is't not a scurvy jest that a man should jest himself
to death? Alas! poor Pedringano, I am in a sort
sorry for thee; but if I should be hanged with thee,
I cannot weep.