ACT II.

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SCENE I. Manchester. The Mill.

[Enter Em and Trotter, the Millers man, with a kerchife on his
head, and an Urinall in his hand.]
EM.
Trotter, where have you been?

TROTTER.
Where have I been? why, what signifies this?

EM.
A kerchiefe, doth it not?

TROTTER.
What call you this, I pray?

EM.
I say it is an Urinall.

TROTTER.
Then this is mystically to give you to understand, I have
been at the Phismicaries house.

EM.
How long hast thou been sick?

TROTTER.
Yfaith, even as long as I have not been half well, and that
hath been a long time.

EM.
A loitering time, I rather imagine.

TROTTER.
It may be so: but the Phismicary tells me that you can help
Me.

EM.
Why, any thing I can do for recovery of thy health be right
well assured of.

TROTTER.
Then give me your hand.

EM.
To what end?

TROTTER.
That the ending of an old indenture is the beginning of a
new bargain.

EM.
What bargain?

TROTTER.
That you promised to do any thing to recover my health.

EM.
On that condition I give thee my hand.

TROTTER.
Ah, sweet Em!

[Here he offers to kiss her.]

EM.
How now, Trotter! your masters daughter?

TROTTER.
Yfaith, I aim at the fairest.
Ah, Em, sweet Em!
Fresh as the flower,
That hath pour
To wound my heart,
And ease my smart,
Of me, poor thief,
In prison bound—

EM.
So all your rhyme
Lies on the ground.
But what means this?

TROTTER.
Ah, mark the device—
For thee, my love,
Full sick I was,
In hazard of my life.
Thy promise was
To make me whole,
And for to be my wife.
Let me enjoy
My love, my dear,
And thou possess
Thy Trotter here.

EM.
But I meant no such matter.

TROTTER.
Yes, woos, but you did. I'll go to our Parson, Sir John, and
he shall mumble up the marriage out of hand.

EM.
But here comes one that will forbid the Banes.

[Here enters Manvile to them.]

TROTTER.
Ah, Sir, you come too late.

MANVILE.
What remedy, Trotter?

EM.
Go, Trotter, my father calls.

TROTTER.
Would you have me go in, and leave you two here?

EM.
Why, darest thou not trust me?

TROTTER.
Yes, faith, even as long as I see you.

EM.
Go thy ways, I pray thee heartily.

TROTTER.
That same word (heartily) is of great force. I will go. But
I pray, sir, beware you come not too near the wench.

[Exit Trotter.]

MANVILE.
I am greatly beholding to you.
Ah, Maistres, sometime I might have said, my love,
But time and fortune hath bereaved me of that,
And I, an object in those gratious eyes,
That with remorse earst saw into my grief,
May sit and sigh the sorrows of my heart.

EM.
In deed my Manvile hath some cause to doubt,
When such a Swain is rival in his love!

MANVILE.
Ah, Em, were he the man that causeth this mistrust,
I should esteem of thee as at the first.

EM.
But is my love in earnest all this while?

MANVILE.
Believe me, Em, it is not time to jest,
When others joys, what lately I possest.

EM.
If touching love my Manvile charge me thus,
Unkindly must I take it at his hands,
For that my conscience clears me of offence.

MANVILE.
Ah, impudent and shameless in thy ill,
That with thy cunning and defraudful tongue
Seeks to delude the honest meaning mind!
Was never heard in Manchester before
Of truer love then hath been betwixt twain:
And for my part how I have hazarded
Displeasure of my father and my friends,
Thy self can witness. Yet notwithstanding this,
Two gentlemen attending on Duke William,
Mountney and Valingford, as I heard them named,
Oft times resort to see and to be seen
Walking the street fast by thy fathers door,
Whose glauncing eyes up to the windows cast
Gives testies of their Maisters amorous heart.
This, Em, is noted and too much talked on,
Some see it without mistrust of ill—
Others there are that, scorning, grin thereat,
And saith, 'There goes the millers daughters wooers'.
Ah me, whom chiefly and most of all it doth concern,
To spend my time in grief and vex my soul,
To think my love should be rewarded thus,
And for thy sake abhor all womenkind!

EM.
May not a maid look upon a man
Without suspitious judgement of the world?

MANVILE.
If sight do move offence, it is the better not to see.
But thou didst more, unconstant as thou art,
For with them thou hadst talk and conference.

EM.
May not a maid talk with a man without mistrust?

MANVILE.
Not with such men suspected amorous.

EM.
I grieve to see my Manviles jealousy.

MANVILE.
Ah, Em, faithful love is full of jealousy.
So did I love thee true and faithfully,
For which I am rewarded most unthankfully.

[Exit in a rage. Manet Em.]

EM.
And so away? What, in displeasure gone,
And left me such a bittersweet to gnaw upon?
Ah, Manvile, little wottest thou
How near this parting goeth to my heart.
Uncourteous love, whose followers reaps reward
Of hate, disdain, reproach and infamy,
The fruit of frantike, bedlome jealousy!

[Here enter Mountney to Em.]

But here comes one of these suspitious men:
Witness, my God, without desert of me,
For only Manvile, honor I in heart,
Nor shall unkindness cause me from him to start.

MOUNTNEY.
For this good fortune, Venus, be thou blest,
To meet my love, the mistress of my heart,
Where time and place gives opportunity
At full to let her understand my love.

[He turns to Em and offers to take her by the hand, and she
goes from him.]

Fair mistress, since my fortune sorts so well,
Hear you a word. What meaneth this?
Nay, stay, fair Em.

EM.
I am going homewards, sir.

MOUNTNEY.
Yet stay, sweet love, to whom I must disclose
The hidden secrets of a lovers thoughts,
Not doubting but to find such kind remorse
As naturally you are enclined to.

EM.
The Gentle-man, your friend, Sir,
I have not seen him this four days at the least.

MOUNTNEY.
Whats that to me?
I speak not, sweet, in person of my friend,
But for my self, whom, if that love deserve
To have regard, being honourable love,
Not base affects of loose lascivious love,
Whom youthful wantons play and dally with,
But that unites in honourable bands of holy rites,
And knits the sacred knot that Gods—

[Here Em cuts him off.]

EM.
What mean you, sir, to keep me here so long?
I cannot understand you by your signs;
You keep a pratling with your lips,
But never a word you speak that I can hear.

MOUNTNEY.
What, is she deaf? a great impediment.
Yet remedies there are for such defects.
Sweet Em, it is no little grief to me,
To see, where nature in her pride of art
Hath wrought perfections rich and admirable—

EM.
Speak you to me, Sir?

MOUNTNEY.
To thee, my only joy.

EM.
I cannot hear you.

MOUNTNEY.
Oh, plague of Fortune! Oh hell without compare!
What boots it us to gaze and not enjoy?

EM.
Fare you well, Sir.

[Exit Em. Manet Mountney.]

MOUNTNEY.
Fare well, my love. Nay, farewell life and all!
Could I procure redress for this infirmity,
It might be means she would regard my suit.
I am acquainted with the Kings Physicians,
Amongst the which theres one mine honest friend,
Seignior Alberto, a very learned man.
His judgement will I have to help this ill.
Ah, Em, fair Em, if Art can make thee whole,
I'll buy that sence for thee, although it cost me dear.
But, Mountney, stay: this may be but deceit,
A matter fained only to delude thee,
And, not unlike, perhaps by Valingford.
He loves fair Em as well as I—
As well as I? ah, no, not half so well.
Put case: yet may he be thine enemy,
And give her counsell to dissemble thus.
I'll try the event and if it fall out so,
Friendship, farewell: Love makes me now a foe.

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