BAWD.
Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.
MARINA.
No.
BAWD.
Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears?
MARINA.
Are you a woman?
BAWD.
What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?
MARINA.
An honest woman, or not a woman.
BAWD.
Marry, whip the gosling: I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you’re a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you.
MARINA.
The gods defend me!
BAWD.
If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men stir you up. Boult’s returned.
Re-enter Boult.