Yield, or I'll force thee.
[SEIZES HER.]
CEL: O! just God!
VOLP: In vain--
BON [RUSHING IN]: Forbear, foul ravisher, libidinous swine!
Free the forced lady, or thou diest, impostor.
But that I'm loth to snatch thy punishment
Out of the hand of justice, thou shouldst, yet,
Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance,
Before this altar, and this dross, thy idol.--
Lady, let's quit the place, it is the den
Of villany; fear nought, you have a guard:
And he, ere long, shall meet his just reward.
[EXEUNT BON. AND CEL.]
VOLP: Fall on me, roof, and bury me in ruin!
Become my grave, that wert my shelter! O!
I am unmask'd, unspirited, undone,
Betray'd to beggary, to infamy--
[ENTER MOSCA, WOUNDED AND BLEEDING.]
MOS: Where shall I run, most wretched shame of men,
To beat out my unlucky brains?
VOLP: Here, here.
What! dost thou bleed?
MOS: O that his well-driv'n sword
Had been so courteous to have cleft me down
Unto the navel; ere I lived to see
My life, my hopes, my spirits, my patron, all
Thus desperately engaged, by my error!
VOLP: Woe on thy fortune!
MOS: And my follies, sir.
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