Footpad. Well, and had she not it again? what a plague would you have? you examine me, as if you would hang me, after I am hanged. Pray, officers, rid me of these impertinent people, and let me die in quiet.
1st Woman. O lord! how angry he is! that shews he is a right reprobate, I warrant you.
Footpad. I believe, if all of you were to be hanged, [II-233,
II-234] which I hope may be in good time, you would not be very merry.
2d Woman. Lord, what a down look he has!
1st Woman. Aye, and what a cloud in his forehead, goody Twattle, mark that—
2d Woman. Aye, and such frowning wrinkles, I warrant you, not so much as a smile from him.
Footpad. Smile, quoth she! Tho’ tis sport for you, ’tis none for me, I assure you.
1st Woman. Aye, but ’tis so long before you are hanged.
Footpad. I wish it longer, good woman.
1st Fellow. Prithee, Mr. Thief, let this be a warning to you for ever doing the like again.