+Luc.+ And then, because I am familiar, And deign out of my nobleness and bounty To grace your weak endeavours with the title Of courtesy, to wave my fan at you, Or let you kiss my hand, must we straight marry? I may esteem you in the rank of servants, To cast off when I please, ne'er for a husband. +Aur.+ If ever devil damn'd in a woman's tongue, 'Tis in thine. I am glad yet you tell me this; I might have else proceeded, and gone on In the lewd[314] way of loving you, and so Have wander'd farther from myself: but now I'll study to be wiser, and henceforth Hate the whole gang of you; denounce a war, Ne'er to be reconcil'd, and rejoice in it; And count myself bless'd for't; and wish all men May do the like to shun you. For my part, If, when my brains are troubled with late drinking (I shall have else the grace, sure, to forget you), Then but my labouring fancy dream of you, I'll start, affrighted at the vision. +Luc.+ 'Las! how pitifully it takes it to heart! It would be angry too, if it knew how. +Aur.+ Come near me none of you: if I hear The sound of your approach, I'll stop my ears; Nay, I'll be angry, if I shall imagine That any of you think of me: and, for thy sake, If I but see the picture of a woman, I'll hide my face and break it. So farewell. [_Exit +Lucretia+._ _Enter +Lorenzo+, +Mocinigo+, and +Angelia+._ +Lor.+ What are you, friend, and what's your business? +Aur.+ Whate'er it be, now 'tis despatch'd. +Lor.+ This is rudeness. +Aur.+ The fitter for the place and persons then. +Lor.+ How's that? +Aur.+ You are a nest of savages: the house Is more inhospitable than the quicksands: Your daughter sits on that enchanted bay Like a siren[315] to entice passengers, Who, viewing her through a false perspective, Neglect the better traffic of their life; But yet, the more they labour to come near her, The further she flies back; until at last, When she has brought them to some rock or shelf, She proudly looks down on the wreck of lovers. +Lor.+ Why, who has injur'd you? +Aur.+ No matter who: I'll first talk with a sphinx, ere [I'll] converse with you. +Lor.+ A word. Expound your wrongs more to the full, If you expect a remedy. +Aur.+ I'll rather Seek out diseases, choose my death and pine, Than stay to be cur'd by you. [_Exit._ _Enter +Æmilia+ and +Lucretia+._ +Lor.+ If you be so obstinate, Take your course. Why, wife Æmilia, Daughter Lucretia, what's the matter here With this same fellow? Do you owe him money? +Luc.+ Owe him money, sir! Does he look like one That should lend money? He is a gentleman, And they seldom credit anybody.