Chapter I: Part 1

FRANCIS BEAUMONT

Born 1584 Died 1616

JOHN FLETCHER

Born 1579 Died 1625

_BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER_

THE MAID IN THE MILL
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA
LOVES CURE, OR THE MARTIAL MAID
WOMEN PLEAS'D
THE NIGHT-WALKER, OR THE LITTLE
THIEF

THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.

Cambridge:
at the University Press
1909

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

London: FETTER LANE, E.C.

C. F. CLAY, MANAGER

Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET
Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO.
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS
New York: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.

_All rights reserved_

CONTENTS

PAGE

The Maid in the Mill 1

The Knight of Malta 78

Loves Cure, or the Martial Maid 164

Women Pleas'd 237

The Night-Walker, or the Little Thief 311

Notes 385

THE

Maid in the Mill.

A COMEDY.

The Persons Represented in the Play.

_Don_ Philippo _King of_ Spain.
Otrante _a Spanish Count, in love with_ Florimel.
Julio, _A Noble Man, Uncle to_ Antonio.
Bellides, _Father to_ Ismenia, _Enemy to_ Julio.
Lisauro, _Brother to_ Ismenia, Bellides _Son_.
Terzo, _Kinsman to_ Lisauro, _and friend to_ Bellides.
Antonio, _In love with_ Ismenia, _an enemy to_ Bellides.
Martino, _Friend to_ Antonio, _and his secret Rival_.
Gerasto, _Friend to_ Otrante.
Pedro. } _Two Courtiers._
Moncado. }
Gostanzo, } _Three Gentlemen, Friends to_ Julio.
Giraldo, }
Philippo, }
Vertigo, _A French Taylor_.
_Lords, attending the King in progress._
Franio, _A Miller, supposed Father to_ Florimell.
Bustopha, Franio _his Son, a Clown_.
_Constable._
_Officers._
Pedro, _A Songster_.
_Servants._

WOMEN.

Ismenia, _Daughter to_ Bellides, _Mistriss of_ Antonio.
Aminta, _Cousen to_ Ismenia, _and her private competrix in_
Antonio's _love_.
Florimell, _Supposed Daughter to_ Franio, _Daughter to_ Julio,
_stolen from him a child_.
Gillian, Franio _the Millers Wife_.
_Countrey Maids._

The Scene Spaine.

The principal Actors were

_Joseph Tailor_,
_John Lowin_,
_John Underwood_,
_William Rowly_,
_John Thomson_,
_Robert Benfield_,
_Tho. Polard_.

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Lisauro, Terzo, Ismenia, _and_ Aminta.

_Lis._ Let the Coach go round, we'll walk along these Meadows:
And meet at Port again: Come my fair Sister,
These cool shades will delight ye.

_Am._ Pray be merry,
The Birds sing as they meant to entertain ye,
Every thing smiles abroad; methinks the River
(As he steals by) curles up his head, to view ye:
Every thing is in love.

_Ism._ You would have it so.
You that are fair, are easie of belief, Cosen,
The theam slides from your tongue.

_Am._ I fair? I thank ye:
Mine's but shadow when your Sun shines by me.

_Ism._ No more of this, you know your worth (_Aminta_)
Where are we now?

_Am._ Hard by the Town (_Ismena_).

_Ter._ Close by the Gates.

_Ism._ 'Tis a fine Ayr.

_Lis._ A delicate;
The way so sweet and even, that the Coach
Would be a tumbling trouble to our pleasures:
Methinks I am very merry:

_Ism._ I am sad:

_Am._ You are ever so when we entreat ye (Cosen)

_Ism._ I have no reason: such a trembling here
Over my heart methinks:

_Am._ Sure you are fasting;
Or not slept well to night; some dream (_Ismena_?)

_Ism._ My dreams are like my thoughts, honest and innocent,
Yours are unhappy; who are these that coast us?

[_Enter Antonio and Martin._

You told me the walk was private.

_Ter._ 'Tis most commonly:

_Ism._ Two proper men: It seems they have some business,
With me none sure; I do not like their faces;
They are not of our Company:

_Ter._ No Cosen:
_Lisauro_, we are dog'd.

_Lis._ I find it (Cosen)

_Ant._ What handsome Lady?

_Mar._ Yes, she's very handsome.
They are handsome both.

_Ant. Martin_, stay we are cosen'd.

_Mar._ I will go up; a woman is no wild-fire.

_Ant._ Now by my life she is sweet: Stay good _Martin_,
They are of our enemies; the house of _Bellides_.
Our mortal enemies:

_Mar._ Let 'em be devils,
They appear so handsomly, I will go forward;
If these be enemies, I'll ne'r seek friends more.

_Ant._ Prethee forbear, the Gentlewomen.

_Mar._ That's it (man)
That moves me like a Gin.
'Pray ye stand off Ladies:

_Lis._ They are both our enemies: both hate us equally;
By this fair day our mortal foes.

_Ter._ I know 'em,
And come here to affront: how they gape at us!
They shall have gaping work.

_Ism._ Why your swords, Gentlemen?

_Ter._ Pray ye stand you off, Cosen,
And good now leave your whistling: we are abus'd all:
Back, back I say:

_Lis._ Go back.

_Ant._ We are no dogs Sir,
To run back on command.

_Ter._ We'll make ye run, Sir.

_Ant._ Having a civil charge of handsome Ladies,
We are your servants: pray ye no quarrel Gentlemen.
There's way enough for both.

_Lis._ We'll make it wider.

_Ant._ If you will fight, arm'd from this Saint; have at ye.

_Ism._ O me unhappy, are ye Gentlemen?
Discreet, and Civil, and in open view thus?

_Am._ What will men think of us; nay you may kill us;
Mercy o'me; through my petticoat; what bloody Gentlemen!

_Ism._ Make way through me, ye had best, and kill an innocent:
Brother, why Cosen: by this light I'll dye too:
This Gentleman is temperate: be you merciful:
Alass, the Swords.

_Am._ You had best run me through [the belly]
'Twill be a valiant thrust.

_Ism._ I faint amongst ye.

_Ant._ Pray ye be not fearful: I have done (sweet Lady)
My swords already aw'd, and shall obey ye:
I come not here to violate sweet beauty,
I bow to that.

_Ism._ Brother, you see this Gentleman,
This noble Gentleman.

_Lis._ Let him avoid then,
And leave our Walk.

_Ant._ The Lady may command Sir,
She bears an eye more dreadful than your weapon.

_Ism._ What a sweet nature this man has! dear brother,
Put up your sword.

_Ter._ Let them put up and walk then:

_Ant._ No more loud words: there's time enough before us:
For shame put up, do honor to these beauties:

_Mar._ Our way is this,
We will not be denyed it.

_Ter._ And ours is this, we will not be cross'd in it.

_Ant._ What ere your way is (Lady) 'tis a fair one;
And may it never meet with rude hands more,
Nor rough uncivil Tongues. [_Exeunt._

_Ism._ I thank ye Sir,
Indeed I thank ye nobly: a brave Enemy,
Here's a sweet temper now: This is a man (Brother)
This Gentleman's anger is so nobly seated,
That it becomes him: Yours proclaim ye Monsters.
What if he be our House-Foe? we may brag on't:
We have ne'er a friend in all our House so honorable:
I had rather from an Enemy, my Brother,
Learn worthy distances and modest difference,
Than from a race of empty friends, loud nothings:
I am hurt between ye.

_Am._ So am I, I fear too:
[I am sure their swords were between my leggs]: Dear Cosen
Why look ye pale? where are ye hurt?

_Ism._ I know not,
But here methinks.

_Lis._ Unlace her gentle Cousen.

_Ism._ My heart, my heart, and yet I bless the Hurter.

_Am._ Is it so dangerous?

_Ism._ Nay, nay, I faint not.

_Am._ Here is no blood that I find, sure 'tis inward:

_Ism._ Yes, yes, 'tis inward: 'twas a subtle weapon,
The hurt not to be cur'd I fear.

_Lis._ The Coach there.

_Am._ May be a fright.

_Ism. Aminta_, 'twas a sweet one,
And yet a cruel.

_Am._ Now I find the wound plain:
A wondrous handsome Gentleman.

_Ism._ Oh no deeper:
Prethee be silent, (wench) it may be thy case.

_Am._ You must be searched; the wound will rancle, Cosen
And of so sweet a nature.

_Ism._ Dear _Aminta_:
Make it not sorer.

_Am._ And on my life admires ye.

_Ism._ Call the Coach, Cosen.

_Am._ The Coach, the Coach.

_Ter._ 'Tis ready bring the Coach there.

_Lis._ Well my brave Enemies, we shall yet meet ye,
And our old hate shall testifie.

_Ter._ It shall (Cosen.) [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martine.

_Ant._ Their swords, alass, I weigh 'em not (dear Friend)
The indiscretion of the Owners blunts 'em;
The fury of the House affrights not me,
It spends it self in words: (Oh me _Martine_)
There was a two edg'd eye, a Lady carried
A weapon that no valor can avoyd,
Nor Art (the hand of Spirit) put aside.
O Friend, it broke out on me like a bullet
Wrapt in a cloud of fire: that point (_Martine_)
Dazled my sence, and was too subtle for me,
Shot like a Comet in my face, and wounded
(To my eternal ruine,) my hearts valor.

_Mar._ Methinks she was no such piece.

_Ant._ Blaspheme not Sir,
She is so far beyond weak commendation,
That impudence will blush to think ill of her.

_Mar._ I see it not, and yet I have both eyes open:
And I could judge, I know there is no beauty
Till our eyes give it 'em, and make 'em handsome;
What's red and white, unless we do allow 'em?
A green face else; and me-thinks such an other.

_Ant._ Peace thou leud Heretick; Thou judge of beauties?
Thou hast an excellent sense for a sign-post (Friend)
Dost thou not see? I'll swear thou art soon blind else,
As blind as ignorance; when she appeared first
_Aurora_ breaking in the east, and through her face,
As if the hours and graces had strew'd Roses,
A blush of wonder flying; when she was frighted
At our uncivil swords, didst thou not mark
How far beyond the purity of snow
The soft wind drives, whiteness of innocence,
Or any thing that bears Celestial paleness,
She appear'd o'th'sodain? Didst thou not see her tears
When she intreated? O thou Reprobate!
Didst thou not see those orient tears flow'd from her,
The little Worlds of Love? A set (_Martine_)
Of such sanctified Beads, and a holy heart to love
I could live ever a Religious Hermite.

_M[a]r._ I do believe a little, and yet methinks
She was of the lowest stature.

_Ant._ A rich Diamond
Set neat and deep, Natures chief Art (_Martine_)
Is to reserve her Models curious,
Not cumbersome and great; and such an one
For fear she should exceed, upon her matter
Has she fram'd this; Oh 'tis a spark of beauty,
And where they appear so excellent in little,
They will but flame in great; Extention spoils 'em:
_Martine_ learn this, the narrower that our eyes
Keep way unto our object, still the sweeter
That comes unto us: Great bodies are like Countries,
Discovering still, toyl and no pleasure finds 'em.

_Mar._ A rare Cosmographer for a small Island,
Now I believe she is handsome.

_Ant._ Believe heartily,
Let thy belief, though long a coming, save thee.

_Mar._ She was (certain) fair.

_Ant._ But heark ye (friend _Martine_)
Do not believe your self too far before me,
For then you may wrong me, Sir.

_Mar._ Who bid ye teach me?
Do you show me meat, and stitch my lips (_Antonio_?)
Is that fair play?

_Ant._ Now if thou shouldst abuse me,
And yet I know thee for an errant wencher,
A most immoderate thing, thou canst not love long.

_Mar._ A little serves my turn, I fly at all games,
But I believe.

_Ant._ How if we never see her more?
She is our enemy.

_Mar._ Why are you jealous then?
As far as I conceive she hates our whole House.

_Ant._ Yet (good _Martine_)

_Mar._ Come, come, I have mercy on ye:
You shall enjoy her in your dream (_Antonio_)
And I'll not hinder: though now I perswade my self.

_Enter_ Aminta _with a Letter_.

_Ant._ Sit with perswasion down, and you deal honestly:
I will look better on her.

_Mar._ Stay, who's this, Friend?

_Ant._ Is't not the other Gentlewoman?

_Mar._ Yes, a Letter.
She brings [no] challenge sure: if she do (_Antonio_)
I hope she'll be a Second too; I am for her.

_Am._ A good hour Gentlemen.

_Ant._ You are welcome Lady;
'Tis like our late rude passage has powr'd on us
Some reprehension.

_Am._ No I bring no anger,
Though some deserv'd it.

_Ant._ Sure we were all to blame, Lady;
But for my part (in all humility
And with no little shame) I ask your pardons,
Indeed I wear no sword to fright sweet beauties.

_Am._ You have it, and this Letter; pray ye Sir view it,
And my Commission's done.

_Mar._ Have ye none for me Lady?

_Am._ Not at this time.

_Mar._ I am sorry for't; I can read too.

_Am._ I am glad: but Sir, to keep you in your exercise,
You may chance meet with one ill written.

_Mar._ Thank ye,
So it be a womans, I can pick the meaning,
For likely they have but one end.

_Am._ You say true Sir. [_Exit._

_Ant. Martine_, my wishes are come home and loaden,
Loaden with brave return: most happy, happy:
I am a blessed man: where's the Gentlewoman?

_Mar._ Gone, the spirit's gone, what news?

_Ant._ 'Tis from the Lady;
From her we saw: from that same miracle,
I know her name now: read but these three lines;
Read with devotion, friend, the lines are holy.

_Martine_ reads.

_I dare not chide ye in my Letter, (Sir)_
_'Twill be too gentle: If you please to look me_
_In the West-street, and find a fair Stone window,_
_Carved with white Cupids; there I'll entertain ye:_
_Night and discretion guide ye._

_Call me_ Ismena.

_Ant._ Give it me again: Come, come, fly, fly, I am all fire.

_Mar._ There may be danger.

_Ant._ So there is to drink
When men are thirsty, to eat hastily
When we are hungry: so there is in sleep, Friend,
Obstructions then may rise and smother us,
We may dye laughing, choak'd even at devotions:
An Apoplexie, or a sodain Palsey
May strike us down.

_Mar._ May be a train to catch ye.

_Ant._ Then I am caught: and let Love answer for it.
'Tis not my folly, but his infamy,
And if he be ador'd, and dare do vild things.--

_Mar._ Well, I will go.

_Ant._ She is a Lady, Sir,
A Maid, I think, and where that holy spell
Is flung about me, I ne're fear a villany,
'Tis almost night: away friend.

_Mar._ I am ready,
I think I know the house too.

_Ant._ Then are we happy. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Ismena, _and_ Aminta.

_Ism._ Did you meet him?

_Am._ Yes.

_Ism._ And did you give my Letter?

_Am._ To what end went I?

_Ism._ Are ye sure it was he?
Was it that Gentleman?

_Am._ Do you think I was blind?
I went to seek no Carrier, nor no Midwife.

_Ism._ What kind of man was he? thou mayst be deceiv'd Friend.

_Am._ A man with a nose on's face: I think he had eyes too,
And hands: for sure he took it.

_Ism._ What an answer!

_Am._ What questions are these to one that's hot and troubled?
Do you think me a Babe? am I not able (Cosin)
At my years and discretion, to deliver
A Letter handsomely? Is that such a hard thing?
Why every Wafer-woman will undertake it:
A Sempsters girl, or a Tailors wife will not miss it:
A Puritan Hostess (Cosin) would scorn these questions.
My legs are weary.

_Ism._ I'll make 'em well again.

_Am._ Are they at supper?

_Ism._ Yes, and I am not well,
Nor desire no company: look out, 'tis darkish.

_Am._ I see nothing yet: assure your self, _Ismena_,
If he be a man, he will not miss.

_Ism._ It may be he is modest,
And that may pull him back from seeing me;
Or has made some wild construction of my easiness:
I blush to think what I writ.

_Am._ What should ye blush at?
Blush when you act your thoughts, not when you write 'em;
Blush soft between a pair of sheets, sweet Cosin,
Though he be a curious carried Gentleman, I cannot think
He's so unnatural to leave a woman,
A young, a noble, and a beauteous woman,
Leave her in her desires: Men of this age
Are rather prone to come before they are sent for.
Hark, I hear something: up to th' Chamber, Cosin,
You may spoil all else.

_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martine.

_Ism._ Let me see, they are Gentlemen;
It may be they.

_Am._ They are they: get ye up,
And like a Land-star draw him.

_Ism._ I am shame-fac'd. [_Exit._

_Ant._ This is the street.

_Mar._ I am looking for the house:
Close, close, pray ye close here.

_Ant._ No, this is a Merchants;
I know the man well:

_Mar._ And this a Pothecaries: I have lain here many times
For a looseness in my hilts.

_A[n]t._ Have ye not past it?

_Mar._ No sure:
There is no house of mark that we have scaped yet.

_Ant._ What place is this?

_Mar._ Speak softer: 'may be spies;
If any, this, a goodly window too,
Carv'd far above, that I perceive: 'tis dark,
But she has such a lustre.

_Enter_ Ismena _and_ Aminta _above with a Taper_.

_Ant._ Yes _Martine_,
So radiant she appears.

_Mar._ Else we may miss, Sir:
The night grows vengeance black, pray heaven she shine clear:
Hark, hark, a window, and a candle too.

_Ant._ Step close, 'tis she: I see the cloud disperse,
And now the beauteous Planet.

_Mar._ Ha, 'tis indeed,
Now by the soul of love a Divine Creature.

_Ism._ Sir, Sir.

_Ant._ Most blessed Lady.

_Ism._ 'Pray ye stand out.

_Am._ You need not fear, there's no body now stirring.

_Mar._ Beyond his commendation I am taken,
Infinite strangely taken.

_Am._ I love that Gentleman,
Methinks he has a dainty nimble body:
I love him heartily.

_Ism._ 'Tis the right Gentleman:
But what to say to him, Sir.

_Am._ Speak.

_Ant._ I wait still,
And will do till I grow another Pillar,
To prop this house, so it please you.

_Ism._ Speak softly,
And 'pray ye speak truly too.

_Ant._ I never ly'd, Lady.

_Ism._ And don't think me impudent to ask ye,
I know ye are an enemy, speak low,
But I would make ye a friend.

_Ant._ I am friend to beauty;
There's no handsomness, I dare be foe to.

_Ism._ Are ye married?

_Ant._ No.

_Ism._ Are ye betroth'd?

_Ant._ No, neither.

_Ism._ Indeed (fair Sir.)

_Ant._ Indeed (fair sweet) I am not.
Most beauteous Virgin, I am free as you are.

_Ism._ That may be, Sir, then ye are miserable,
For I am bound.

_Ant._ Happy the bonds that hold ye;
Or do you put them on your self for pleasure?
Sure they be sweeter far than liberty:
There is no blessedness but in such bondage:
Give me that freedom (Madam) I beseech ye,
(Since you have question'd me so cunningly)
To ask you whom you are bound to, he must be certain
More than humane, that bounds in such a beauty:
Happy that happy chain, such links are heavenly.

_Ism._ Pray ye do not mock me, Sir.

_Ant._ Pray ye (Lady) tell me.

_Ism._ Will ye believe, and will ye keep it to ye?
And not scorn what I speak?

_Ant._ I dare not, Madam,
As Oracle what you say, I dare swear to.

_Ism._ I'll set the candle by: for I shall blush now;
Fie, how it doubles in my mouth! it must out,
'Tis you I am bound to.

_Ant._ Speak that word again.
I understand ye not.

_Ism._ 'Tis you I am bound to.

_Ant._ Here is another Gentleman.

_Ism._ 'Tis you, Sir.

_Am._ He may be lov'd too.

_Mar._ Not by thee, first curse me.

_Ism._ And if I knew your name.

_Ant. Antonio_ (Madam)

_Ism. Antonio_, take this kiss, 'tis you I am bound to.

_Ant._ And when I set ye free, may heaven forsake me, _Ismena_.

_Ism._ Yes, now I perceive ye love me,
You have learn'd my name.

_Ant._ Hear but some vows I make to ye:
Hear but the protestations of a true love.

_Ism._ No, no, not now: vows should be cheerful things,
Done in the cleerest light, and noblest testimony:
No vow, dear Sir, tie not my fair belief
To such strict terms: those men have broken credits,
Loose and dismembred faiths (my dear _Antonio_)
That splinter 'em with vows: am I not too bold?
Correct me when you please.

_Ant._ I had rather hear ye,
For so sweet Musick never stru[c]k mine ears yet:
Will you believe now?

_Ism._ Yes.

_Ant._ I am yours.

_Ism._ Speak louder,
If ye answer the Priest so low, you will lose your wedding.

_Mar._ Would I might speak, I would holloa.

_Ant._ Take my heart,
And if it be not firm and honest to you,
Heaven--

_Ism._ Peace, no more: I'll keep your heart, and credit it.
Keep you your word: [when] will you come again (Friend?)
For this time we have woo'd indifferently.
I would fain see ye, when I dare be bolder.

_Ant._ Why any night: only (dear noble Mistriss)
Pardon three daies: my Uncle _Julio_
Has bound me to attend him upon promise,
Upon expectation too: we have rare sports there,
Rare Countrey sports, I would you could but see 'em.
Dare ye so honor me?

_Ism._ I dare not be there,
You know I dare not, no, I must not (Friend)
Where I may come with honourable freedom:
Alas, I am ill too; we in love.

_Ant._ You flout me.

_Ism._ Trust me I do not: I speak truth, I am sickly,
And am in love: but you must be Physician.

_Ant._ I'll make a plaister of my best affection.

_Ism._ Be gone, we have supp'd, I hear the people stir,
Take my best wishes: give me no cause (_Antonio_)
To curse this happy night.

_Ant._ I'll lose my life first,
A thousand kisses.

_Ism._ Take ten thousand back again.

_Mar._ I am dumb with admiration: shall we goe, Sir? [_Exeunt._

_Ism._ Dost thou know his Uncle?

_Am._ No, but I can ask, Cosin.

_Ism._ I'll tell thee more of that, come, let's to bed both,
And give me handsome dreams, Love, I beseech thee.

_Am._ 'Has given ye a handsome subject.

_Ism._ Pluck to the windows. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Bustofa.

_Bust._ The thundring Seas, whose watry fire washes
The whiting mops:
The gentle Whale whose feet so fell
Flies o'r the Mountains tops. [_within_ Franio.

_Fra._ Boy.

_Bust._ The thundring.

_Fra._ Why boy _Bustofa_.

_Bust._ Here I am, the gentle Whale.

_Enter_ Franio.

_Fra._ Oh, are you here, Sir? where's your Sister?

_Bust._ The gentle Whale flies o'r the Mountain tops.

_Fra._ Where's your sister (man)?

_Bust._ Washes the whiting-Mops.

_Fra._ Thou ly'st, she has none to wash Mops?
The boy is half way out of his wits, sure:
Sirrah, who am I?

_Bust._ The thundring Seas.

_Fra._ Mad, stark mad.

_Bust._ Will you not give a man leave to con?

_Fra._ Yes, and fesse too, e'r I have done with you Sirrah,
Am I your father?

_Bust._ The question is too hard for a child, ask me any thing
That I have learn'd, and I'll answer you.

_Fra._ Is that a hard question? Sirrah, am not I your Father?

_Bust._ If I had my Mother-wit I could tell you.

_Fra._ Are you a thief?

_Bust._ So far forth as the Son of a Miller.

_Fra._ Will you be hang'd?

_Bust._ Let it go by eldership. The gentle Whale.--

_Fra._ Sirrah, lay by your foolish study there,
And beat your brains about your own affairs: or--

_Bust._ I thank you; you'ld have me goe under the sails
And beat my brains about your Mill? a natural
Father you are.--

_Fra._ I charge you goe not to the sports to day:
Last night I gave you leave, now I recant.

_Bust._ Is the wind turn'd since last night?

_Fra._ Marry is it, Sir, go no farther than my Mill;
There's my command upon you.

_Bust._ I may go round about then as your Mill does?
I will see your Mill gelded, and his Stones fry'd in steaks,
E'r I deceive the Countrey so: have I not my part to study?
How shall the sports go forward, if I be not there?

_Fra._ They'll want their fool indeed, if thou be'st not there.

_Bust._ Consider that, and go your self.

_Fra._ I have fears, (Sir,) that I cannot utter,
You goe not, nor your Sister: there's my charge.

_Bust._ The price of your golden thumb cannot hold me.

_Fra._ I, this was sport that I have tightly lov'd,
I could have kept company with the Hounds.

_Bust._ You are fit for no other company yet.

_Fra._ Run with the Hare; and bin in the whore's tail y' faith:

_Bust._ That was before I was born,
I did ever mistrust I was a Bastard,
Because _Lapis_ is in the singular number with me.

_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Gerasto.

_Otr._ Leave thou that game (_Gerasto_) and chase here,
Do thou but follow it with my desires,
Thou'lt not return home empty.

_Ger._ I am prepar'd
(My Lord) with advantages: and see
Yonder's the subject I must work upon:

_Otr._ Her brother [?'tis,] methinks it should be easie:
That gross compound cannot but diffuse
The soul in such a latitude of ease,
As to make dull her faculties, and lazie:
What wit above the least can be in him,
That Reason ties together?

_Ger._ I have prov'd it, Sir,
And know the depth of it: I have the way
To make him follow me a hackney-pace,
With all that flesh about him; yes, and dragg
His Sister after him: This baits the old one,
Rid you him, and leave me to the other. [_Exit._

_Otr._ 'Tis well: Oh _Franio_, the good day to you;
You were not wont to hear this Musick standing:
The Beagle and the Bugle ye have lov'd,
In the first rank of Huntsmen.

_Bust._ The dogs cry out of him now.

_Fra._ Sirrah, leave your barking, I'll bite you else:

_Bust._ Curr, Curr.

_Fra._ Slave, do'st call me dog?

_Otr._ Oh fie Sir, he speaks _Latine_ to you,
He would know why you'll bite him.

_Bust. Responde cur_; You see his understanding (my Lord.)

_Fra._ I shall have a time to curry you for this:
But (my Lord) to answer you, the daies have been
I must have footed it before this Horn-pipe,
Though I had hazarded my Mill a fire,
And let the stones grind empty: but those dancings
Are done with me: I have good will to it still,
And that's the best I can do.

_Otr._ Come, come, you shall be hors'd:
Your company deserves him, though you kill him,
Run him blind, I care not.

_Bust._ He'll do't o'th' purpose (my Lord) to bring him up to the Mill.

_Fra._ Do not tempt me too far (my Lord.)

_Otr._ There's a foot i'th' stirrop: I'll not leave you now:
You shall see the Game fall once again:

_Fra._ Well (my Lord) I'll make ready my legs for you,
And try 'em once a horseback: sirrah, my charge, keep it. [_Exit._

_Bust._ Yes, when you pare down your dish for conscience sake,
When your thumb's coyn'd into _bone & legalis_,
When you are a true Man-Miller.

_Otr._ What's the matter _Bustofa_?

_Bust._ My Lord; if you have e'r a drunken Jade that has the staggers,
That will fall twice the height of our Mill with him: set him
O' th' back on him: a galled _Jennet_ that will winch him out o' the
Saddle, and break one on's necks, or a shank of him (there was
A fool going that way, but the Asse had better luck;)
Or one of your brave _Bar[b]aries_, that would pass the
Straits, and run
Into his own Countrey with him; the first Moor he met, would
Cut his throat for Complexions sake: there's as deadly feud between
A _Moor_ and a Miller, as between black and white.

_Otr._ Fie, fie, this is unnatural _Bustofa_,
Unless on some strong cause.

_Bust._ Be Judge (my Lord)
I am studied in my part: the _Julian_ Feast is to day: the Countrey
Expects me; I speak all the dumb shews: my Sister chosen for
A Nimph. The gentle Whale whose feet so fell: Cry mercy,
That was some of my part: But his charge is to keep the Mill,
And disappoint the Revels.

_Otr._ Indeed, there it speaks shrewdly for thee; the Countrey
expecting.

_Bust._ I, and for mine own grace too.

_Otr._ Yes, and being studied too: and the main Speaker too.

_Bust._ The main? why all my Speech lies in the main,
And the dry ground together: The thundering seas, whose, &c.

_Otr._ Nay, then thou must go, thou'lt be much condemn'd else.
But then o'th'other side, obedience.

_Bust._ Obedience?
But speak your conscience now (my Lord)
Am not I past asking blessing at these years?
Speak as you're a Lord, if you had a Miller to your father.

_Otr._ I must yield to you (_Bustofa_,) your reasons
Are so strong, I cannot contradict: This I think,
If you goe; your Sister ought to go along with you.

_Bust._ There I stumble now: she is not at age.

_Otr._ Why, she's fifteen, and upwards.

_Bust._ Thereabouts.

_Otr._ That's womans ripe age; as full as thou art
At one and twenty: she's manable, is she not?

_Bust._ I think not: poor heart, she was never try'd in my conscience.
'Tis a coy thing; she will not kiss you a clown, not if he
Would kiss her.

_Otr._ What man?

_Bust._ Not if he would kiss her, I say.

_Otr._ Oh, 'twas cleanlier than I expected: well Sir,
I'll leave you to your own; but my opinion is,
You may take her along: this is half way:
The rest (_Gerasto_) and I hunt my prey,-- [_Exit._

_Bust._ Away with the old Miller (my Lord) and the Mill
Strikes sail presently.

_Enter_ Pedro, _with_ Gerasto _blind, singing_.

SONG.

Ger. _Come follow me (you Countrey-Lasses)_
_And you shall see such sport as passes:_
_You shall Danc[e], and I will Sing_;
Pedro _he shall rub the string:_
_Each shall have a loose bodied Gown_
_Of green; and laugh till you lie down._
_Come follow me, come follow_, &c.

_Enter_ Florimel.

_Bust._ O sweet _Diego_, the sweetest _Diego_, stay: Sister _Florimel_.

_Flo._ What's that Brother?

_Bust._ Didst not hear _Diego_? Hear him, and thou'lt be ravish'd.

_Flo._ I have heard him sing, yet unravish'd, Brother.

_Bust._ You had the better luck (Sister.) I was ravish'd
By my own consent: Come away: for the Sports.

_Flo._ I have the fear of a Father on me (Brother.)

_Bust._ Out: the thief is as safe as in his Mill: he's hunting with our
Great Land-lord, the Don _Otrante_. Strike up _Diego_.

_Flo._ But say he return before us, where's our excuse?

_Bust._ Strike up _Diego_. Hast no strings to thy apron?

_Flo._ Well, the fault lie upon your head (Brother.)

_Bust._ My faults never mount so high (girl) they rise but to
My middle at most. Strike up _Diego_.

_Ger._ Follow me by the ear, I'll lead thee on (_Bustofa_) and
Pretty _Florimel_ thy Sister: oh that I could see her.

_Bust._ Oh _Diego_, there's two pities upon thee; great pitie
thou art blind;
And as great a pitie, thou canst not see.

SONG.

Ger. _You shall have Crowns of Roses, Daysies,_
_Buds, where the honey-maker gazes;_
_You shall taste the golden thighs,_
_Such as in Wax-Chamber lies._
_What fruit please you, taste, freely pull,_
_Till you have all your bellies full._
_Come follow me, &c._

_Bust._ Oh, _Diego_, the Don was not so sweet when he
perfum'd the Steeple. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Antonio _and Martine_.

_Mar._ Why, how now (Friend) thou art not lost agen?

_Ant._ Not lost? why, all the world's a wilderness:
Some places peopled more by braver beasts
Than others are: But faces, faces (man)
May a man be caught with faces?

_Mar._ Without wonder,
'Tis odds against him: May not a good face
Lead a man about by th' nose? 'las,
The nose is but a part against the whole.

_Ant._ But is it possible that two faces
Should be so twin'd in form, complexion,
Figure, aspect? that neither wen, nor mole,
The Table of the brow, the eyes lustre,
The lips cherry; neither the blush nor smile
Should give the one distinction from the other?
Does Nature work in molds?

_Mar._ Altogether.
We are all one mold, one dust.

_Ant._ Thy reason's moldie.
I speak from the Form, thou the Matter.
Why? was't not ever one of Natures Glories,
Nay, her great piece of wonder, that amongst
So many millions millions of her works
She left the eye distinction, to cull out
The one from th'other; yet all one name, the face?

_Mar._ You must compare 'em by some other part
Of the body, if the face cannot do't.

_Ant._ Didst ask her name?

_Mar._ Yes, and who gave it her?
And what they promis'd more, besides a spoon,
And what Apostles picture: she is christned too,
In token wherefore she is call'd _Isabella_,
The daughter of a Countrey plow-swain by:
If this be not true, she lies.

_Ant._ She cannot;
It would be seen a blister on her lip,
Should falshood touch it, it is so tender:
Had her name held, 't had been _Ismenia_,
And not another of her name.

_Mar._ Shall I speak?

_Ant._ Yes, if thou'lt speak truth: Is she not wondrous like?

_Mar._ As two garments of the same fashion,
Cut from the same piece, yet if any excell,
This has the first; and in my judgment 'tis so.

_Ant._ 'Tis my opinion.

_Mar._ Were it the face
Where mine eye should dwell, I would please both
With this, as soon as one with the other.

_Ant._ And yet the other is the case of this.
Had I not look'd upon _Ismenia_,
I ne'r had staid beyond good-morrows time
In view of this.

_Mar._ Would I could leave him here,
'Twere a free passage to _Ismenia_:
I must now blow, as to put out the fire
Yet kindle't more. You not consider Sir,
The great disparitie is in their bloods,
Estates and fortunes: there's the rich beauty
Which this poor homeliness is not endow'd with;
There's difference enough.

_Ant._ The least of all.
Equality is no rule in Loves Grammar:
That sole unhappiness is left to Princes
To marry bloud: we are free disposers,
And have the power to equalize their blouds
Up to our own; we cannot keep it back,
'Tis a due debt from us.

_Mar._ I Sir, had you
No Father nor Uncle, nor such hinderers,
You might do with your self at your pleasure;
But as it is.

_Ant._ As it is; 'tis nothing:
Their powers will come too late, to give me back
The yesterday I lost.

_Mar._ Indeed, to say sooth,
Your opposition from the other part
Is of more force; there you run the hazard
Of every hour a life, had you supply;
You meet your dearest enemy in love
With all his hate about him: 'Twill be more hard
For your _Ismenia_ to come home to you,
Than y[o]u to goe to Countrey _Isabella_.

_Enter_ Julio.

_Ant._ Tush; 'tis not fear removes me.

_Mar._ No more: your Uncle.

_Jul._ Oh, the good hour upon you Gentlemen:
Welcome Nephew; Speak it to your friend Sir,
It may be happier receiv'd from you,
In his acceptance.

_Ant._ I made bold, Uncle,
To do it before; and I think he believes it.

_Mar._ 'Twas never doubted, Sir.

_Jul._ Here are sports (_Dons_)
That you must look on with a loving eye,
And without Censure, 'less it be giving
My countrey neighbors loves their yearly offerings
That must not be refus'd; though't be more pain
To the Spectator, than the painful Actor,
'Twill abide no more test than the tinsel
We clad our Masks in for an hours wearing,
Or the Livery Lace sometimes on the cloaks
Of a great _Don_'s Followers: I speak no further
Than our own Countrey, Sir.

_Mar._ For my part, Sir,
The more absurd, 't shall be the better welcome.

_Jul._ You'll find the guest you look for: I heard Cousin,
You were at _Toledo_ th' other day.

_Ant._ Not late, Sir.

_Jul._ Oh fie! must I be plainer? You chang'd the point
With _Tirso_ and _Lisauro_, two of the Stock
Of our Antagonists, the _Bellides_.

_Ant._ A meer proffer, Sir; the prevention
Was quick with us: we had done somewhat else:
This Gentleman was engag'd in't.

_Jul._ I am
The enemy to his foe for it: that wild-fire
Will crave more than fair water, to quench it
I suspect. Whence it will come I know not.

_Enter two or three Gentlemen._

_Ant._ I was about a gentle reconcilement,
But I do fear I shall goe back agen.

_Jul._ Come, come; The Sports are coming on us:
Nay, I have more guests to grace it: Welcome
Don _Gostazo, Giraldo, Philippo_: Seat, seat all. [_Musick._

_Enter a_ Cupid.

_Cup._ Love is little, and therefore I present him;
Love is a fire, therefore you may lament him.

_Mar._ Alas poor Love, who are they that can quench him?

_Jul._ He's not without those members, fear him not.

_Cup._ Love shoots, therefore I bear his bow about.
And Love is blind, therefore my eyes are out.

_Ma._ I never heard Love give reason for what he did before.

_Enter_ Bustofa (_for_ Paris.)

_Cup._ Let such as can s[e]e, see such as cannot: behold,
Our goddesses all three strive for the ball of Gold:
And here fair _Paris_ comes, the hopeful youth of _Troy_,
Queen _Hecub_'s darling-son, King _Priams_ only joy.

_Mart._ Is this _Paris_? I should have taken him for _Hector_ rather.

_Bust. Paris_ at this time: Pray you hold your prating.

_Ant. Paris_ can be angry.

_Jul._ Oh at this time
You must pardon him: he comes as a Judge.

_Mar._ ---- Mercy on all that looks upon him, say I.

_Bust._ The thundring seas whose watry fire washes the Whiting Mops.
The gentle Whale, whose feet so fell, flies o'r the mountain tops.
No roars so fierce, no throats so deep, no howls can bring such fears.
As _Paris_ can, if Garden from he call his Dogs and Bears.

_Mar._ I, those they were, that I fear'd all this while.

_Bust._ Yes _Jack-an-Apes_.

_Mar._ I thank you good _Paris_.

_Bust._ You may hold your peace, and stand further out o'th way then:
The lines will fall where they light,
Yes _Jack-an-Apes_, he hath [to sport], and faces make like mirth,
Whilst bellowing buls, the horned beasts, do toss from ground to earth:
Blind Bear there is, as _Cupid_ blind.

_Ant._ That Bear would be whip'd for losing of his eies.

_Bust._ Be whipped man may see,
But we present no such content, but _Nymphs_ such as they be.

_Ant._ These are long lines.

_Mar._ Can you blame him, leading Buls and Bears in 'em.

_Enter Shepherd singing, with_ Ismena, Aminta, Florimel, (_as_
Juno, Pallas, Venus,) _and three Nymphs attending_.

_Bust._ Go _Cupid_ blind, conduct the dumb, for Ladies must not
speak here:
Let shepherds sing with dancing feet, and cords of musick break here.

_Song._

Now Ladies fight, with heels so light, by lot your luck must fall,
Where _Paris_ please, to do you ease, and give the golden Ball.

[_Dance._

_Mar._ If you plaid _Paris_ now _Antonio_, where would you bestow it?

_Ant._ I prethee, Friend,
Take the full freedom of thought, but no words.

_Mar._ 'Protest there's a third, which by her habit,
Should personate _Venus_, and by consequence
Of the Story, receive the honors prize:
And were I a _Paris_, there it should be.
Do you note her?

_Ant._ No; mine eye is so fixed,
I cannot move it.

_Cup._ The dance is ended; Now to judgement _Paris_.

_Bust._ Here _Juno_, here: but stay, I do espy
A pretty gleek coming from _Pallas_ eye:
Here _Pallas_, here: yet stay agen: methinks
I see the eye of lovely _Venus_ winks:
Oh close them both: shut in those golden eyn,
And I will kiss those sweet blind cheeks of thine.
_Juno_ is angry: yes, and _Pallas_ frowns,
Would _Paris_ now were gone from _Ida_'s downs.
They both are fair, but _Venus_ has the Mole,
The fairest hair, and sweetest dimple hole:
To her, or her, or her, or neither;
Can one man please three Ladies altogether?
No, take it _Venus_, toss it at thy pleasure,
Thou art the Lovers friend beyond his measure.

_Jul. Paris_ has done what man can do, pleas'd one,
Who can do more?

_Mar._ Stay, here's another person.

_Enter_ Gerasto, (_as_ Mars.)

_Ger._ Come lovely _Venus_, leave this lower Orb,
And mount with _Mars_, up to his glorious Sphere.

_Bust._ How now, what's he:

_Flo._ I'm ignorant what to do, Sir.

_Ger._ Thy silver-yoke of Doves are in the Team,
And thou shalt fly through _Apollo_'s Beam:
I'll see thee seated in thy golden Throne,
And hold with _Mars_ a sweet conjunction. [_Exit._

_Bust._ Ha? what fellow's this? has carried away my Sister _Venus_:
He never rehears'd his part with me before.

_Jul._ What follows now Prince _Paris_?

[Flor. _within._----_H[e]lp, help, help._

_B[u]st._ Hue and cry, I think Sir, this is _Venus_ voice,
Mine own Sister _Flori[m]els_.

_Mar._ What is there some Tragick-Act behind?

_Bust._ No, no, altogether Comical; _Mars_ and _Venus_
Are in the old conjunction it seems.

_Mar._ 'Tis very improper then, for _Venus_
Never cries out when she conjoyns with _Mars_.

_Bust._ That's true indeed: they are out of their parts sure,
It may be 'Tis the Book-holders fault: I'll go see.-- [_Exit._

_Jul._ How like you our Countrey Revels, Gentlemen?

_All Gent._ Oh, they commend themselves, Sir.

_Ant._ Methinks now
_Juno_ and _Minerva_ should take revenge on _Paris_.
It cannot end without it.

_Mar._ I did expect
Instead of _Mars_, the Storm-G[ao]ler _Eolus_,
And _Juno_ proff'ring her _Deiopeia_
As satisfaction to the blustring god,
To send his Tossers forth.

_Jul._ It may so follow,
Lets not prejudicate the History.

_Enter_ Bustofa.

_Bust._ Oh, oh, oh, oh.

_Jul._ So, here's a Passion towards.

_Bust._ Help, help, if you be Gentlemen; my Sister,
My _Venus_; she's stolen away.

_Jul._ The story changes from our expectation.

_Bust._ Help, my father, the Miller will hang me else: god _Mars_
Is a bawdy Villain: he said she should ride upon Doves:
She's hors'd, she's hors'd, whether she will or no.

_Mar._ Sure I think he's serious.

_Bust._ She's hors'd upon a double Gelding, and a Stone-horse
in the breech
Of her: the poor wench cries help, and I cry help, and none
Of you will help.

_Jul._ Speak, is it the show, or dost thou bawl?

_Bust._ A pox on the Ball: my Sister bawls, and I bawl:
Either bridle horse and follow, or give me a halter
To hang my self: I cannot run so fast as a hog.

_Jul._ Follow me, I'll fill the Countrey with pursuit
But I will find the thief: my house thus abus'd?

_Bust._ 'Tis my house that's abus'd, the Sister of my flesh
and bloud: oh, oh. [_Exeunt._

_1. Wench._ {'Tis time we all shift for our selves, if this be serious.
_2._ {However I'll be gone.
_3._ {And I. [_Exeunt._

_Ant._ You need not fright your beauties pretty souls,
With the least pale complexion of a fear.

_Mar. Juno_ has better courage: and _Minerva_'s more discreet.

_Ism._ Alas my courage was so counterfeit
It might have been struck from me with a Feather.
_Juno_ ne'r had so weak a presenter.

_Am._ Sure I was ne'r the wiser for _Minerva_,
That I find yet about me.

_Ism._ My dwelling, Sir?
'Tis a poor yeomans roof, scarce a league off,
That never sham'd me yet.

_Ant._ Your gentle pardon:
I vow my erring eies had almost cast you
For one of the most mortal enemies
That our Family has.

_Ism._ I'm sorry, Sir,
I am so like your foe: 'Twere fit I hasted
From your offended sight.

_Ant._ Oh, mistake not,
It was my error, and I do confess it:
You'll not believe you'r welcome; nor can I speak it;
But there's my friend can tell you, pray hear him.

_Mar._ Shall I tell her, Sir? I'm glad of the employment.

_Ant._ A kinswoman to that beauty:

_Am._ A kin to her, Sir,
But nothing to her beauty.

_Ant._ Do not wrong it, 'tis not far behind her.

_Am._ Her hinder parts are not far off, indeed, Sir.

_Mar._ Let me but kiss you with his ardor now,
You shall feel how he loves you.

_Ism._ Oh forbear:
'Tis not the fashion with us, but would you
Perswade me that he loves me?

_Mar._ I'll warrant you
He dies in't: and that were witness enough on't.

_Ism._ Love me Sir? can you tell me for what reason?

_Mar._ Fie, will you ask me that which you have about you?

_Ism._ I know nothing Sir.

_Mar._ Let him find it then;
He constantly believes you have the thing
That he must love you for: much is apparent,
A sweet and lovely beauty.

_Ism._ So Sir; Pray you
Show me one thing: Did he ne'r love before?
(I know you are his bosom-Counsellor)
Nay then I see your answer is not ready:
I'll not believe you if you study farther.

_Mar._ Shall I speak truth to you?

_Ism._ Or speak no more.

_Mar._ There was a smile thrown at him, from a Lady
Whose deserts might buy him trebble, and lately
He receiv'd it, and I know where he lost it,
In this face of yours: I know his heart's within you.

_Ism._ May I know her name?

_Mar._ In your ear you may
With vow of silence.

_Am._ He'll not give over Sir:
If he speak for you, he'll sure speed for you.

_Ant._ But that's not the answer to my question.

_Am._ You are the first in my Virgin-conscience
That e'r spoke Love to her: oh, my heart!

_Ant._ How do you?

_Am._ Nothing Sir: but would I had a better face.
How well your pulse beats.

_Ant._ Healthfully, does it not?

_Am._ It thumps prettily, methinks.

_Ism._ Alack, I hear it
With much pity: how great is your fault too,
In wrong to the good Lady!

_Mar._ You forget
The difficult passage he has to her,
A hell of feud's between the Families.

_Ism._ And that has often Love wrought by advantage
To peaceful reconcilement.

_Mar._ There impossible.

_Ism._ This way 'tis worser; 't may seed again in her
Unto another generation:
For where (poor Lady) is her satisfaction?

_Mar._ It comes in me; to be truth, I love her
(I'll go no farther for comparison)
As dear as he loves you.

_Ism._ How if she love not?

_Mar._ Tush: be that my pains: You know not what Art
I have those ways.

_Ism._ Beshrow you, you have practis'd upon me,
Well, speed me here, and you with your _Ismenia_.

_Mar._ Go, the condition's drawn, ready dated,
There wants but your hand to't.

_Am._ Truely you have taken great pains, Sir.

_Mar._ A friendly part, no more (sweet Beauty.)

_Am._ They are happy, Sir, have such friends as you are.
But do you know you have done well in this?
How will his Allies receive it? she (though I say't)
Is of no better bloud than I am.

_Mar._ There I leave it, I'm at farthest that way.

_Ism._ You shall extend your vows no larger now.
My heart calls you mine own: and that's enough.
Reason, I know, would have all yet conceal'd.
I shall not leave you unsaluted long
Either by Pen or Person.

_Ant._ You may discourse
With me, when you think y'are alone, I shall
Be present with you.

_Ism._ Come Cosin, will you walk?

_Am._ Alas, I was ready long since: in conscience
You would with better will yet stay behind.

_Ism._ Oh Love, I never thought thou'dst been so blind.

_Mar._ You'll answer this Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Ant._ If er't be spoke on:
I purpose not to propound the question.

_Enter_ Julio.

_Jul._ 'Tis true, the poor knave said: some Ravisher,
Some of Lusts Bloud-hounds have seiz'd upon her:
The Girl is hurried, as the devil were with 'em
And help'd their speed.

_Mar._ It may be not so ill, Sir.
A well-prepared Lover may do as much
In hot bloud as this, and perform't hon[e]stly.

_Jul._ What? steal away a Virgin 'gainst her will?

_Mar._ It may be any mans case; despise nothing:
And that's a thief of a good quality,
Most commonly he brings his theft home again,
Though with a little shame.

_Jul._ There's a charge by't
Fall'n upon me: _Paris_ (the Millers son)
Her brother, dares not venture home again
Till better tidings follow of his Sister.

_Ant._ Y'are the more beholding to the mischance, Sir:
Had I gone a Boot-haling, I should as soon
Have stoll'n him as his Sister: Marry then,
To render him back in the same plight he is
May be costly: his flesh is not maintain'd with little.

_Jul._ I think the poor knave will pine away,
He cries all to be pittied yonder.

_Mar._ Pray you Sir, let's go see him: I should laugh
To see him cry, sure.

_Jul._ Well, you are merry, Sir.
_Antonio_, keep this charge; I have fears
Move me to lay it on you: Pray forbear
The ways of your enemies, the _Bellides_.
I have reason for my Injunction, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Aminta (_as a Page with a Letter_.)

_Ant._ To me, Sir? from whom?

_Am._ A friend, I dare vow, Sir.
Though on the enemies part: the Lady _Ismenia_.

_Mar._ Take heed, blush not too deep; let me advise you
In your answer, 't must be done heedfully.

_Ant._ I should not see a Masculine in peace
Out of that house.

_Am._ Alas, I'm a child, Sir,
Your hates cannot last till I wear a sword.

_Ant._ Await me for your answer.

_Mar._ He must see her,
To manifest his shame: 'tis my advantage;
While our bloud's under us, we keep above:
But then we fall, when we do fall in love. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Julio _and_ Franio.

_Fra._ My Lord, my Lord, your house hath injur'd me,
Rob'd [me] of all the joys I had on earth.

_Jul._ Where wert thou brought up (fellow?)

_Fra._ In a Mill.
You may perceive it by my loud exclaims,
Which must rise higher yet.

_Jul._ Obstreperous Carle,
If thy throats tempest could o'erturn my house,
What satisfaction were it for thy child:
Turn thee the right way to thy journeys end.
Wilt have her where she is not?

_Fra._ Here was she lost,
And here must I begin my footing after;
From whence, until I meet a pow'r to punish,
I will not rest: You are not quick to grief.
Your hearing's a dead sense. Were yours the loss,
Had you a Daughter [stoln], perhaps be-whor'd,
(For to what other end should come the thief?)
You'ld play the Miller then, be loud and high.
But being not a sorrow of your own,
You have no help nor pity for another.

_Jul._ Oh, thou hast op'd a Sluce was long shut up,
And let a floud of grief in; a buried grief
Thy voice hath wak'd again: a grief as old
As likely 'tis thy child is; friend, I tell thee,
I did once lose a Daughter.

_Fra._ Did you, Sir?
Beseech you then, how did you bear her loss?

_Jul._ With thy grief trebled.

_Fra._ But was she stolen from you?

_Jul._ Yes, by devouring thieves, from whom cannot
Ever return a satisfaction:
The wild beasts had her in her swathing clothes.

_Fra._ Oh much good do 'em with her.

_Jul._ Away tough churle.

_Fra._ Why, she was better eaten than my child,
Better by beasts, than beastly men devoured,
They took away a life, no honor from her:
Those beasts might make a Saint of her, but these
Will make my child a devil but was she, Sir,
Your only Daughter?

_Enter_ Gilian.

_Jul._ I ne'r had other (Friend.)

_Gill._ Where are you (man?) your business lies not here,
Your Daughters in the Pound, I have found where;
'Twill cost [you] dear, her freedom.

_Fra._ I'll break it down,
And free her without pay:
Horse-locks nor chains shall hold her from me.

_Jul._ I'll take this relief.
I now have time to speak alone with grief. [_Exit._

_Fra._ How? my Landlord? he's Lord of my Lands
But not my Cattle: I'll have her again (_Gill._)

_Gill._ You are not mad upon the sudden now.

_Fra._ No _Gill_. I have been mad these five hours:
I'll sell my Mill, and buy a Roring.
I'll batter down his house, and make a Stewes on't.

_Gill._ Will you gather up your wits a little
And hear me? the King's near by in progress,
Here I have got our supplication drawn,
And there's the way to help us.

_Fra._ Give it me (_Gill._)
I will not fear to give it to the King:
To his own hands (God bless him) will I give it,
And he shall set the Law upon their shoulders,
And hang 'em all that had a hand in it.

_Gill._ Where's your Son?

_Fra._ He shall be hang'd in flitches:
The Dogs shall eat him in _Lent_, there's Cats-meat
And Dogs-meat enough about him.

_Gill._ Sure the poor Girl is the _Counts_ whore by this time.

_Fra._ If she be the _Counts_ whore, the whores _Count_
Shall pay for it: He shall pay for a new Maiden-head.