But I wouldn't--no I wouldn't--it is a pretty box too--prettily dovetailed--I admire the fashion of it much.

But I'd cut my fingers off, before I'd do such a dirty--what have I to do--curse the keys, how they rattle!--rattle in one's pockets--the keys and the half-pence (_takes out a bunch and plays with them_).

I wonder if any of these would fit; one might just try them, but I wouldn't lift up the lid if they did.

Oh no, what should I be the richer for knowing?
(_All this time he tries the keys one by one._) What's his name to me?
a thousand names begin with an H.I hate people that are always prying, poking and prying into things,--thrusting their finger into one place--a mighty little hole this--and their keys into another.

Oh Lord! little rusty fits it! but what is that to me?
I wouldn't go to--no, no--but it is odd little rusty should just happen--( _While he is turning up the lid of the box, _Mr.H._enters behind him unperceived._) _Mr.H._ What are you about, you dog?
_Landlord._ Oh Lord, Sir I pardon; no thief, as I hope to be saved.
Little Pry was always honest.
_Mr.H._ What else could move you to open that box?
_Landlord._ Sir, don't kill me, and I will confess the whole truth.
This box happened to be lying--that is, I happened to be carrying this box, and I happened to have my keys out, and so--little rusty happened to fit-- _Mr.H._ So little rusty happened to fit!--and would not a rope fit that rogue's neck?
I see the papers have not been moved: all is safe, but it was as well to frighten him a little (_aside_).