_Bel._ And to night I'll have it dispatch'd: I'll make it sure, I, By to morrow this time thy Maiden-head Shall not be worth a Chicken, if it were Knockt at an out-cry: go, I'll ha'ye before me: Shough, shough, up to your coop, Pea-Hen. _Ism._ Then I'll try my wings. [_Exit._ _Bel._ I, are you good at that? stop, stop thief, stop there. [_Exit._ _Scæna Secunda._ _Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell _singing_. 1. SONG. Flo. _Now having leisure, and a happy wind,_ _Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind,_ _Sayls spread, and grist here ready to be ground,_ _Fie, stand not idlely, but let the Mill go round._ _Otr._ Why dost thou sing and dance thus? why so merry? Why dost thou look so wantonly upon me? And kiss my hands? _Flo._ If I were high enough, I would kiss your lips too. _Otr._ Do, this is some kindness, This tastes of willingness, nay, you may kiss Still, but why o'th' sudden now does the fit take ye, Unoffer'd, or uncompell'd? why these sweet curtesies? Even now you would have blush'd to death to kiss thus: Prethee let me be prepar'd to meet thy kindness, I shall be unfurnish'd else to hold thee play, wench: Stay now a little, and delay your blessings; If this be love, methinks it is too violent: If you repent you of your strictness to me, It is so sudden, it wants circumstance. _Flo._ Fy, how dull! 2. SONG. _How long shall I pine for love?_ _how long shall I sue in vain?_ _How long like the Turtle-Dove_ _shall I heav[i]ly thus complain?_ _Shall the sayls of my love stand still?_ _Shall the grists of my hopes be unground?_ _Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,_ _Let the Mill, let the Mill go round._ _Otr._ Prethee be calm a little, Thou mak'st me wonder, thou that wert so strange, And read such pious rules to my behavior But yesternight, thou that wert made of modesty, Shouldst in a few short minutes turn thus desperate. _Flo._ You are too cold. _Otr._ I do confess I freeze now, I am another thing all over me: It is my part to wooe, not to be courted: Unfold this Riddle, 'tis to me a wonder, That now [o']th' instant ere I can expect, Ere I can turn my thoughts, and think upon A separation of your honest carriage From the desires of youth, thus wantonly, Thus beyond expectation.