Duke. We ask no more.
Whore. Ye have done with us then?
Duke. But is her name Constantia?
Petr. Yes a moveable
Belonging to a friend of mine: come out Fidler,
What say you to this Lady? be not fearfull.
Fra. Saving the reverence of my Masters pleasure,
I say she is a whore, and that she has robb'd him,
Hoping his hurts would kill him.
Whore. Who provok't me?
Nay Sirrah squeak, I'le see your treble strings
Ty'd up too; if I hang, I'le spoil your piping,
Your sweet face shall not save ye.
Petr. Thou damn'd impudence,
And thou dry'd Devil; where's the officer?
[Pet.] He's here Sir.
Enter Officer.