Part 2

_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.