Ver. I'll show you: but 'tis in vain to cry out: no one dares help you; for I am lord here.
Fid. Tyrant here!—But if you are master of this house, which I have taken for a sanctuary, do not violate it yourself.
Ver. No, I'll preserve you here, and nothing shall hurt you, and will be as true to you as your disguise; but you must trust me then. Come, come. [Pulls her.
Fid. Oh! oh! rather than you should drag me to a deed so horrid and so shameful, I'll die here a thousand deaths.—But you do not look like a ravisher, sir.
Ver. Nor you like one would put me to't; but if you will—
Fid. Oh! oh! help! help!
Re-enter Servant.
Ver. You saucy rascal, how durst you come in? When you heard a woman squeak, that should have been your cue to shut the door.
Serv. I come, sir, to let you know, the alderman coming home immediately after you were at his house, has sent his cashier with the money, according to your note.