O’Shan. Ah, poor gintleman, your troubles will soon be pit an end to. Ah! ye may well sigh, for no man laughs on his way to the gallows.
Charles. The gallows! is it possible that so inhuman a murder can be contemplated?
O’Shan. O ye may be satisfied of it! There’s only one thing that’s doubtful, I’m thinking.
Charles. What’s that?
O’Shan. Whether they’ll stick your head on the Lord Mayor’s mace before or after they’ve hung you!
Charles. O horrible, horrible, most horrible! It cannot, O it cannot be! What a dreadful, what a fearful fate! O that the first step I took from my Father’s home had been into a horse-pond! that I had died e’er I left it!
O’Shan. Ay, there’s the pity! Had ye stayed peaceably at home, this would never have happened to ye.
Charles. The gallows! can it be?
O’Shan. Ah, how all the Ladies will pity ye! such a likely lad, and so young, and ...