 | The Maid in the Mill |  |
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Otrante and Florimell.Otr.
Prethee be wiser wench, thou canst not scape me,
Let me with love and gentlenesse enjoy that
That may be still preserv'd with love, and long'd for,
If violence lay rough hold, I shall hate thee,
And after I have enjoyd thy Maiden-head,
Thou wilt appear so stale and ugly to me
I shall despise thee, cast thee off.
Flor.
I pray ye, Sir,
Begin it now, and open your dores to me,
I do confesse I am ugly; Let me go, Sir:
A Gipsey-girl: Why would your Lordship touch me?
Fye, 'tis not noble: I am homely bred,
Course, and unfit for you: why do you flatter me?
There be young Ladies, many that will love ye,
That will dote on ye: you are a hansome Gentleman,
What will they say when once they know your quality?
A Lord, a Miller? take your Toal-dish with ye:
You that can deal with Gudgins, and course floure,
'Tis pitie you should taste what manchet means:
Is this fit Sir, for your repute and honour?
Otr.
I'll love thee still.
Flo.
You cannot, there's no sympathy
Between our births, our breeding, arts, conditions,
And where these are at difference, there's no liking:
This houre if may be I seem hansom to you,
And you are taken with variety
More then with beauty: to morrow when you have enjoy'd me,
Your heate and lust asswag'd, and come to examine
Out of cold and penitent condition
What you have done, whom you have shar'd your love with,
Made partner of your bed, how it will vex ye,
How you will curse the devil that betrayd ye:
And what shall become of me then?
Otr.
Wilt thou hear me?
Flo.
As hastie as you were then to enjoy me,
As precious as this beauty shew'd unto ye,
You'll kick me out of dores, you will whore and ban me:
And if I prove with child with your fair issue,
Give me a pension of five pound a yeer
To breed your heir withall, and so good speed me.
Otr.
I'll keep thee like a woman.
Flo.
I'll keep my self Sir,
Keep my self honest Sir; there's the brave keeping:
If you will marry me.
Otr.
Alas poor Florimell.
Flo.
I do confesse I am too course and base Sir
To be your wife, and it is fit you scorn me,
Yet such as I have crown'd the lives of great ones:
To be your whore, I am sure I am too worthy,
(For by my troth Sir, I am truly honest)
And that's an honour equal to your greatnes.
Otr.
I'll give thee what thou wilt.
Flo.
Tempt me no more then:
Give me that peace, and then you give abundance,
I know ye do but try me, ye are noble,
All these are but to try my modestie,
If you should find me easie, and once coming,
I see your eies already how they would fright me:
I see your honest heart how it would swell
And burst it self into a grief against me:
Your tongue in noble anger, now, even now Sir,
Ready to rip my loose thoughts to the bottom,
And lay my shame unto my self, wide open:
You are a noble Lord: you pity poor maids,
The people are mistaken in your courses:
You, like a father, try 'em to the uttermost,
As they do gold: you purge the drosse from them,
And make them shine.
Otr.
This cunning cannot help ye:
I love ye to enjoy ye: I have stolne ye
To enjoy ye now, not to be fool'd with circumstance,
Yeeld willingly, or else.
Flo.
What?
Otr.
I will force ye.
I will not be delay'd, a poor base wench
That I in curtesie make offer to,
Argue with me?
Flo.
Do not, you will lose your labour,
Do not (my Lord) it will become ye poorly
Your curtesie may do much on my nature,
For I am kind as you are, and as tender:
If you compell, I have my strengths to fly to,
My honest thoughts, and those are guards about me:
I can cry too, and noise enough I dare make,
And I have curses, that will call down thunder,
For all I am a poor wench, heaven will hear me:
My body you may force, but my will never;
And be sure I do not live if you do force me,
Or have no tongue to tell your beastly Story,
For if I have, and if there be a Justice.
Otr.
Pray ye go in here: I'll calme my self for this time.
13
Flo.
I am commanded.
Exit.
Otr.
You cannot scape me, yet I must enjoy ye,
I'll lie with thy wit, though I misse thy honesty:
Is this a wench for a Boors hungry bosom?
A morsel for a Peasants base embraces?
And must I starve, and the meat in my mouth?
I'll none of that.
Enter Gerasto.
Ger.
How now my Lord, how sped ye?
Have ye done the deed?
Otr.
No, pox upon't, she is honest.
Ger.
Honest? what's that? you take her bare deniall,
Was there ever wench brought up in a mill, and honest?
That were a wonder worth a Chronicle,
Is your belief so large? what did she say to ye?
Otr.
She said her honesty was all her dowry,
And preach'd unto me, how unfit, and homely,
Nay how dishonourable it would seem in me
To act my will; popt me i'th mouth with modestie.
Ger.
What an impudent Quean was that? that's their trick ever.
Otr.
And then discours'd to me very learnedly
What fame and loud opinion would tell of me:
A wife she touch'd at.
Ger.
Out upon her Varlet.
Was she so bold? these home spun things are devils,
They'll tell ye a thousand lies, if you'll beleeve 'em;
And stand upon their honours like great Ladies,
They'll speak unhappily too: good words to cozen ye,
And outwardly seem Saints: they'll cry down-right also,
But 'tis for anger that you do not crush 'em.
Did she not talk of being with child?
Otr.
She toucht at it,
Ger.
The trick of an arrant whore to milk your Lordship
And then a pension nam'd?
Otr.
No, no, she scorn'd it:
I offer'd any thing, but she refus'd all,
Refus'd it with a confident hate.
Ger.
You thought so,
You should have taken her then, turn'd her, and tew'd her
I'th' strength of all her resolution, flattered her,
And shak't her stubborn will: she would have thank'd ye,
She would have lov'd ye infinitely, they must seem modest,
It is their parts: if you had plaid your part Sir.
And handled her as men do unmand Hawks,
Cast her, and malde her up in good clean linnen:
And there have coyed her, you had caught her heart-strings
These tough Virginities they blow like white thornes
In Stormes and Tempests.
Otr.
She is beyond all this,
As cold, and harden'd, as the Virgin Crystal.
Ger.
Oh force her, force her, Sir, she longs to be ravishd
Some have no pleasure but in violence;
To be torne in pieces is their paradise:
'Tis ordinary in our Country, Sir, to ravish all
They will not give a penny for their sport
Unlesse they be put to it, and terribly,
And then they swear they'll hang the man comes neer'em,
And swear it on his lips too.
Otr.
No, no forcing,
I have an other course, and I will follow it,
I command you, and do you command your fellows,
That when you see her next, disgrace, and scorn her,
Ill seem to put her out o'th' dores o'th' sodain
And leave her to conjecture, then seize on her
Away, be ready straight.
Ger.
We shall not fail, Sir.
Exit.
Otr.
Florimell.
Enter Florimell.
Flo.
My Lord.
Otr.
I am sure you have now consider'd
And like a wise wench weigh'd a friends displeasure,
Repented your prowd thoughts, and cast your scorn off.
Flo.
My Lord, I am not proud, I was never beautifull.
Nor scorn I any thing that's just and honest.
Otr.
Come, to be short, can ye love yet? you told me
Kindnes would far compell ye: I am kind to ye,
And mean to exceed that way.
Flo.
I told ye too, Sir,
As far as it agreed with modestie,
With honour, and with honesty I would yeeld to yee:
Good my Lord, take some other Theam: for Love,
Alas, I never knew yet what it meant,
And on the sudden Sir, to run through volumes
Of his most mystick art, 'tis most impossible;
Nay, to begin with lust, which is an Herisie,
A foul one too: to learn that in my childhood:
O good my Lord.
Otr.
You will not out of this song,
Your modestie, and honestie, is that all?
I will not force ye.
Flo.
Ye are too noble, Sir.
Otr.
Nor play the childish fool, and marry ye,
I am yet not mad.
Flo.
If ye did, men would imagine.
Otr.
Nor will I woo ye at that infinite price
It may be you expect.
Flo.
I expect your pardon,
And a discharge (my Lord) that's all I look for.
Otr.
No, nor fall sick for love.
Flo.
'Tis a healthful year Sir.
Otr.
Look ye, I'l turn ye out o'dores, and scorn ye.
Flo.
Thank ye my Lord.
Otr.
A proud slight Peat I found ye,
A fool (it may be too.)
Flo.
An honest woman,
Good my Lord think me.
Otr.
And a base I leave ye,
So fare-ye-well.
Exit.
Flo.
Blessing attend your Lordship;
This is hot love, that vanisheth like vapors;
His Ague's off, his burning fits are well quench'd,
I thank heaven for't: his men, they will not force me.
Enter Gerasto, and Servants.
Ger.
What dost thou stay for? dost thou not know the way,
Thou base unprovident whore?
Flo.
Good words, pray ye Gentlemen.
1 Ser.
Has my Lord smoak'd ye over, good wife Miller?
Is your Mill broken that you stand so uselesse?
2 Ser.
An impudent Quean, upon my life she is unwholsome;
Some base discarded thing my Lord has found her,
He would not have turnd her off o'th' sudden else.
Ger.
Now against every sack (my honest sweet-heart)
With every Sim and Smug.
Flo.
I must be patient.
Ger.
And every greasie guest, and sweaty Rascall
For his Royal hire between his fingers, Gentlewoman.
1 Ser.
I feare thou hast given my Lord the—thou damn'd thing.
2 Ser.
I have seen her in the Stewes.
Ger.
The knave her father
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You must even to it again: a modest function.
Flo.
If ye had honesty ye would not use me
Thus basely wretchedly, though your Lord bid ye,
But he that knows.
Ger.
Away thou carted impudence,
You meat for every man: a little meal
Flung in your face, makes ye appear so proud.
Flo.
This is inhumane. Let these tears perswade you
If ye be men, to use a poor girle better:
I wrong not you, I am sure I call you Gentlemen.
Enter Otrante.
Otr.
What busines is here? away, are not you gone yet?
Flo.
My Lord, this is no: well: although you hate me,
For what I know not: to let your people wrong me,
Wrong me maliciously, and call me
Otr.
Peace,
And mark me what we say advisedly;
Mark, as you love that that you call your credit;
Yeeld now, or you are undone: your good name's perish'd
Not all the world can buy your reputation;
Tis sunk for ever els, these peoples tongues will poison ye
Though you be white as innocence, they'll taint ye,
They will speak terrible and hideous things,
And people in this age are prone to credit,
They'll let fall nothing that may brand a woman,
Consider this, and then be wise and tremble:
Yeeld yet, and yet I'll save ye.
Flo.
How?
Otr.
I'll show ye,
Their mouthes I'll seal up, they shall speak no more
But what is honourable and honest of ye,
And Saintlike they shall worship ye: they are mine,
And what I charge 'em Florimell.
Flo.
I am ruind,
Heaven will regard me yet, they are barbarous wretches:
Let me not fall (my Lord.)
Otr.
You shall not Florimell:
Mark how I'll work your peice, and how I honour ye.
Who waits there? come all in.
Enter Gerasto and Servants.
Ger.
Your pleasure Sir.
Otr.
Who dare say this sweet beauty is not heavenly?
This virgin, the most pure, the most untainted,
The holiest thing?
Ger.
We know it (my dear Lord)
We are her slaves: and that proud impudence
That dares disparage her, this sword (my Lord.)
1 Ser..
They are rascals, base, the sons of common women
That wrong this vertue, or dare owne a thought
But fair and honourable of her: when we slight her,
Hang us, or cut's in pieces: let's tug i'th' Gallies.
2 Ser.
Brand us for villains.
Flo.
Why sure I dream: these are all Saints.
Otr.
Go, and live all her slaves.
Ger.
We are proud to do it.
Exeunt.
Otr.
What think ye now? am not I able Florimell
Yet to preserve ye?
Flo.
I am bound to your Lordship,
Ye are all honour, and good my Lord but grant me
Untill to morrow leave to weigh my Fortunes,
I'll give you a free answer, perhaps a pleasing,
Indeed I'll do the best I can to satisfie ye.
Otr.
Take your good time, this kisse, till then farewell, Sweet.
Exeunt.
| The Maid in the Mill | |