_Mar._ Take heed, blush not too deep; let me advise you In your answer, 't must be done heedfully. _Ant._ I should not see a Masculine in peace Out of that house. _Am._ Alas, I'm a child, Sir, Your hates cannot last till I wear a sword. _Ant._ Await me for your answer. _Mar._ He must see her, To manifest his shame: 'tis my advantage; While our bloud's under us, we keep above: But then we fall, when we do fall in love. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Julio _and_ Franio. _Fra._ My Lord, my Lord, your house hath injur'd me, Rob'd [me] of all the joys I had on earth. _Jul._ Where wert thou brought up (fellow?) _Fra._ In a Mill. You may perceive it by my loud exclaims, Which must rise higher yet. _Jul._ Obstreperous Carle, If thy throats tempest could o'erturn my house, What satisfaction were it for thy child: Turn thee the right way to thy journeys end. Wilt have her where she is not? _Fra._ Here was she lost, And here must I begin my footing after; From whence, until I meet a pow'r to punish, I will not rest: You are not quick to grief. Your hearing's a dead sense. Were yours the loss, Had you a Daughter [stoln], perhaps be-whor'd, (For to what other end should come the thief?) You'ld play the Miller then, be loud and high. But being not a sorrow of your own, You have no help nor pity for another. _Jul._ Oh, thou hast op'd a Sluce was long shut up, And let a floud of grief in; a buried grief Thy voice hath wak'd again: a grief as old As likely 'tis thy child is; friend, I tell thee, I did once lose a Daughter. _Fra._ Did you, Sir? Beseech you then, how did you bear her loss? _Jul._ With thy grief trebled. _Fra._ But was she stolen from you? _Jul._ Yes, by devouring thieves, from whom cannot Ever return a satisfaction: The wild beasts had her in her swathing clothes. _Fra._ Oh much good do 'em with her. _Jul._ Away tough churle. _Fra._ Why, she was better eaten than my child, Better by beasts, than beastly men devoured, They took away a life, no honor from her: Those beasts might make a Saint of her, but these Will make my child a devil but was she, Sir, Your only Daughter? _Enter_ Gilian. _Jul._ I ne'r had other (Friend.) _Gill._ Where are you (man?) your business lies not here, Your Daughters in the Pound, I have found where; 'Twill cost [you] dear, her freedom. _Fra._ I'll break it down, And free her without pay: Horse-locks nor chains shall hold her from me. _Jul._ I'll take this relief. I now have time to speak alone with grief. [_Exit._ _Fra._ How? my Landlord? he's Lord of my Lands But not my Cattle: I'll have her again (_Gill._)