GRIM. O, that it were my fortune to light upon her, on condition my horses were dead, and my cart broken, and I bound to carry coals, as long as I live, from Croydon to London on my bare shoulders! Master Parson, the flesh is frail, he shall tempt her no longer. She is but weak, and he is the stronger. I'll upon him. Miller, thou art my neighbour, and therein charity holds my hands; but methinks you, having a water-gap of your own, you may do as other millers do, grind your grist at home, knock your cogs into your own mill; you shall not cog with her. She doth descry thee; And I defy thee To a mortal fight; And so, miller, good night. And now, sweet Joan, Be it openly known Thou art my own. CLACK. Well, Grim, since thou art so collier-like choleric-- GRIM. Miller, I will not be mealy-mouth'd. CLACK. I'll give thee the fewer words now, because the next time we meet, I'll pay thee all in dry blows. Carry coals[447] at a collier's hands! if I do, let my mill be drowned up in water, and I hanged in the roof. JOAN. And if thou lov'st me, Grim, forbear him now. GRIM. If I love thee! dost thou doubt of that? nay, rip me up, and look into my heart, and thou shalt see thy own face pictured there as plainly as in the proudest looking-glass in all Croydon. If I love thee! then, tears, gush out, and show my love. CLACK. What, Master Parson, are you there? You remember you promised to win Joan for my own wearing? SHO. I warrant thee, Clack, but now begone; Leave me to work that here alone. CLACK. Well, farewell, Master Shorthose; be true when you are trusted. [_Exit_ CLACK. SHO. She shall be neither his nor thine, For I intend to make her mine. GRIM. If I love thee, Joan! Those very words are a purgation to me. You shall see desperation in my face, and death marching in my very countenance. If I love! SHO. What, Grim, hath grief drown'd thee at last? Are all thy joys overcast? Is Joan in place, and thou so sad! Her presence, man, should make thee glad. JOAN. Good Master Parson, 'twas no fault of mine; He takes occasion, where there none was given. I will not blab unto the world, my love I owe to him, and shall do whilst I live. [_Aside_] GRIM. Well, Joan, without all ifs or ands, e-persese, a-persese, or tittle-tattles in the world, I do love thee; and so much that, in thy absence I cry, when I see thee, and rejoice with my very heart, when I cannot behold thee. SHO. No doubt, no doubt, thou lov'st her well, But listen now to what I tell: Since ye are both so well agreed, I wish you make more haste and speed. To-morrow is Holy-rood day, When all a-nutting take their way; Within the wood a close doth stand, Encompass'd round on either hand With trees and bushes; there will I Despatch your marriage presently. GRIM. O Master Parson, your devising pate hath blessed me for ever. Joan, we'll have that so: the shorter the work the sweeter.