MOR. Well, be content: 'tis I must work the mean To make her yield, whether she will or no. My Lord of Kent is gone hence in a chafe, And now I purpose that she shall be yours, Yet to herself unknown; for she shall think That Musgrave is the man, but it shall be you: Seem you still discontented, and no more. Go, Mariana, call thy mistress hither. Now, when she comes, dissemble what you know, And go away, as if you car'd not for her; So will she the sooner be brought into it. [_Exit_ MARIAN. CAS. My lord, I thank you for your honest care, And, as I may, will study to requite it. _Enter_ HONOREA _and_ MARIAN. But here your daughter comes. No, no, my lord, 'Tis not her[445] favour I regard, nor her; Your promise 'tis I challenge, which I'll have: It was my bargain, no man else should have her. Not that I love her, but I'll not be wrong'd By any one, my lord; and so I leave you. [_Exit_ CASTILIANO. MOR. He's passing cunning to deceive himself: But all the better for the after-sport. HON. Sir, did you send for me? MOR. Honorea, for thee; And this it is. Howe'er unworthily I have bestowed my love so long upon thee, That wilt so manifestly contradict me, Yet, that thou may'st perceive how I esteem thee, I make thyself the guardian of thy love, That thine own fancy may make choice for thee. I have persuaded with my Lord of Kent To leave to love thee: now the peevish doctor Swears that his int'rest he will ne'er resign; Therefore we must by policy deceive him. He shall suppose he lieth this night with thee, But Mariana shall supply thy room; And thou with Musgrave in another chamber Shall secretly be lodg'd. When this is done, 'Twill be too late to call that back again: So shalt thou have thy mind, and he a wife. HON. But wilt thou, Mariana, yield to this? MAR. For your sake, lady, I will undertake it. HON. Gramercy, Marian, and my noble father; Now I acknowledge that indeed you love me. MOR. Well, no more words, but be you both prepar'd: The night draweth on, and I have sent in secret For Musgrave, that he may be brought unseen, To hide suspicion from their jealous eyes. HON. I warrant you. Come, Marian, let us go. [_Exeunt_ HONOREA _and_ MARIAN. MOR. And then my Lord of Kent shall be my son. Should I go wed my daughter to a boy? No, no; young girls must have their will restrain'd; For if the rule be theirs, all runs to nought. [_Exit_. _Enter_ CLACK _the Miller, with_ JOAN. CLACK. Be not Jug, as a man would say, finer than fivepence, or more proud than a peacock; that is, to seem to scorn to call in at Clack's mill as you pass over the bridge. There be as good wenches as you be glad to pay me toll.