_Fra._ No, no, my Lord, I am in my wits, I am a labouring man, And we have seldome leisure to run mad, We have other business to employ our heads in, We have little Wit to lose too: if we complain, And if a heavie lo[r]d lie on [our] shoulders, Worse than a sack of Meal, and oppress our poverties, We are mad streight, and whop'd, and ty'd in fetters, Able to make a horse mad, as you use us, You are mad for nothing, and no man dare proclaim it, In you a wildness is a noble trick, And cherish'd in ye, and all men must love it: Oppressions of all sorts, sit like new clothes, Neatly and handsomely upon your Lordships: And if we kick when your honors spur us, We are Knaves and Jades, and ready for the Justice. I am a true Miller. _Phil._ Then thou art a wonder. _2 Lor._ I know [the] man reputed for a good man An honest and substantial fellow. _Phil._ He speaks sence, And to the point: Greatness begets much rudeness, How dare you (Sirrah) 'gainst so main a person, A man of so much Noble note and honor, Put up this base complaint? Must every Peasant Upon a saucy Will affront great Lords! All fellows (Miller?) _Fra._ I have my reward, Sir, I was told one greatness would protect another, As beams support their fellows; now I find it: If't please your Grace to have me hang'd, I am ready, 'Tis but a Miller, and a Thief dispa[t]ch'd: Though I steal bread, I steal no flesh to tempt me. I have a wife, and 't please him to have her too, With all my heart; 'twill make my charge the less, Sir, She'll hold him play awhile: I have a boy too, He's able to instruct his Honors hogs, Or rub his horse-heels: when it please his Lordship He may [make] him his slave too, or his bawd: The boy is well bred, can exhort his Sister: For me, the Prison, or the Pillory, To lose my [goods], and have mine ears cropt off; Whipt like a Top, and have a paper stuck before me, For abominable honesty to his own Daughter, I can endure, Sir: the Miller has a stout heart, [T]ough as his Toal-pin. _Phil._ I suspect this shrewdly, Is it his Daughter that the people call The Millers fair Maid? _2 Lor._ It should seem so, Sir. _Phil._ Be sure you be i' th' right, Sirrah. _Fra._ If I be i' th' wrong, Sir, Be sure you hang me, I will ask no courtesie: Your Grace may have a Daughter, think of that, Sir, She may be fair, and she may be abused too: A King is not exempted from these cases: Stolen from your loving care. _Phil._ I do much pity him. _Fra._ But heaven forbid she should be in that venture That mine is in at this hour: I'll assure your Grace The Lord wants a water-Mill, and means to grind with her Would I had his stones to set, I would fit him for it.