_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. _Ver._ Damn his money! Money never came to any, sure, unseasonably till now. Bid him stay. _Serv._ He says, he cannot a moment. _Ver._ Receive it you then. _Serv._ He says he must have your receipt for it:--he is in haste, for I hear him coming up, sir. _Ver._ Damn him! Help me in here then with this dishonourer of my family. _Fid._ Oh! oh! _Serv._ You say she is a woman, sir. _Ver._ No matter, sir: must you prate? _Fid._ Oh Heavens! is there--[_They thrust her in, and lock the door._ _Ver._ Stay there, my prisoner; you have a short reprieve. I'll fetch the gold, and that she can't resist, For with a full hand 'tis we ravish best. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.--ELIZA'S _Lodgings._ _Enter_ OLIVIA _and_ ELIZA. _Oliv._ Ah, cousin! nothing troubles me but that I have given the malicious world its revenge, and reason now to talk as freely of me as I used to do of it. _Eliza._ Faith, then, let not that trouble you; for, to be plain, cousin, the world cannot talk worse of you than it did before. _Oliv._ How, cousin! I'd have you to know, before this _faux pas_, this trip of mine, the world could not talk of me. _Eliza._ Only that you mind other people's actions so much that you take no care of your own, but to hide 'em; that, like a thief, because you know yourself most guilty, you impeach your fellow-criminals first, to clear yourself. _Oliv._ O wicked world! _Eliza._ That you pretend an aversion to all mankind in public, only that their wives and mistresses may not be jealous, and hinder you of their conversation in private. _Oliv._ Base world! _Eliza._ That abroad you fasten quarrels upon innocent men for talking of you, only to bring 'em to ask your pardon at home, and to become dear friends with them, who were hardly your acquaintance before. _Oliv._ Abominable world! _Eliza._ That you condemn the obscenity of modern plays, only that you may not be censured for never missing the most obscene of the old ones. _Oliv._ Damned world!