LYSIMACHUS. I did not think Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne’er dream’d thou couldst. Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, Thy speech had alter’d it. Hold, here’s gold for thee: Persever in that clear way thou goest, And the gods strengthen thee! MARINA. The good gods preserve you! LYSIMACHUS. For me, be you thoughten That I came with no ill intent; for to me The very doors and windows savour vilely. Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. Hold, here’s more gold for thee. A curse upon him, die he like a thief, That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost Hear from me, it shall be for thy good. Re-enter Boult. BOULT. I beseech your honour, one piece for me. LYSIMACHUS. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! Your house but for this virgin that doth prop it, Would sink and overwhelm you. Away! [_Exit._] BOULT. How’s this? We must take another course with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope, shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways. MARINA. Whither would you have me? BOULT. I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common hangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We’ll have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say. Re-enter Bawd. BAWD. How now! what’s the matter? BOULT. Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus. BAWD. O, abominable! BOULT. She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods. BAWD. Marry, hang her up for ever! BOULT. The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a snowball; saying his prayers too. BAWD. Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure: crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable. BOULT. An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. MARINA. Hark, hark, you gods! BAWD. She conjures: away with her! Would she had never come within my doors! Marry, hang you! She’s born to undo us. Will you not go the way of womankind? Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays! [_Exit._] BOULT. Come, mistress; come your way with me. MARINA. Whither wilt thou have me? BOULT. To take from you the jewel you hold so dear. MARINA. Prithee, tell me one thing first. BOULT. Come now, your one thing? MARINA. What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? BOULT. Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress. MARINA. Neither of these are so bad as thou art, Since they do better thee in their command. Thou hold’st a place, for which the pained’st fiend Of hell would not in reputation change: Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib. To the choleric fisting of every rogue Thy ear is liable, thy food is such As hath been belch’d on by infected lungs.