I have cheated the Poor of their Mony, and took the Bread out of their Mouths, for which I was much troubled in Conscience, fell into Dispair, and, as you see, hang'd my self.

[Pulls him up, and runs out

O the Devil! Murder, murder!

Enter Poor.

Poor. O Neighbours, here hangs the Rogue.

Scar. Help me down?

Poor. No, you are very well as you are.

Scar. Don't you know me?

Poor. Ay, for a Rogue; e'en finish your Work, and save the Hang-man a Labour. Yet, now I think on't, self-murder is a crying Sin, and may damn his Soul. Come, Neighbours, we'll take him down, and have him hang'd according to Law. [When he's down he trips up their Heels, and runs out, they after him.

All. Stop Thief, stop Thief.