A street.
Enter BOY with the boxe.
BOY.
My maister hath forbidden me to look in this box, and, by
my troth, tis likely, if he had not warned me, I should not haue had so
much idle time; for wee [men-kinde] in our minoritie are like women in
their vncertaintie; that they are most forbidden, they wil soonest
attempt; so I now. By my bare honesty, heeres nothing but the bare
emptie box! Were it not sin against secrecie, I would say it were a
peece of gentlemanlike knauery. I must goe to Pedringano and tell him
his pardon is in this boxe! Nay, I would haue sworne it, had I not
seene the contrary. I cannot choose but smile to thinke how the villain
wil flout the gallowes, scorne the audience, and descant on the hangman,
and all presuming of his pardon from hence. Wilt not be an odde iest,
for me to stand and grace euery iest he makes, pointing my figner at
this boxe, as who [should] say: "Mock on, heers thy warrant!" Ist not
a scuruie iest that a man should iest himselfe to d**h? Alas, poor
Pedringano! I am in a sorte sorie for thee, but, if I should be hanged
with thee, I [could not] weep.
Exit.