[To Marina.] Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must seem to do that fearfully which you commit willingly, despise profit where you have most gain. To weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your lovers: seldom but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit.
MARINA.
I understand you not.
BOULT.
O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice.
BAWD.
Thou sayest true, i’faith so they must; for your bride goes to that with shame which is her way to go with warrant.
BOULT.
Faith, some do and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,—
BAWD.
Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit.
BOULT.
I may so.
BAWD.
Who should deny it? Come young one, I like the manner of your garments well.
BOULT.
Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet.
BAWD.
Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we have; you’ll lose nothing by custom. When nature framed this piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.