_Ism._ Be gone, we have supp'd, I hear the people stir, Take my best wishes: give me no cause (_Antonio_) To curse this happy night. _Ant._ I'll lose my life first, A thousand kisses. _Ism._ Take ten thousand back again. _Mar._ I am dumb with admiration: shall we goe, Sir? [_Exeunt._ _Ism._ Dost thou know his Uncle? _Am._ No, but I can ask, Cosin. _Ism._ I'll tell thee more of that, come, let's to bed both, And give me handsome dreams, Love, I beseech thee. _Am._ 'Has given ye a handsome subject. _Ism._ Pluck to the windows. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Bustofa. _Bust._ The thundring Seas, whose watry fire washes The whiting mops: The gentle Whale whose feet so fell Flies o'r the Mountains tops. [_within_ Franio. _Fra._ Boy. _Bust._ The thundring. _Fra._ Why boy _Bustofa_. _Bust._ Here I am, the gentle Whale. _Enter_ Franio. _Fra._ Oh, are you here, Sir? where's your Sister? _Bust._ The gentle Whale flies o'r the Mountain tops. _Fra._ Where's your sister (man)? _Bust._ Washes the whiting-Mops. _Fra._ Thou ly'st, she has none to wash Mops? The boy is half way out of his wits, sure: Sirrah, who am I? _Bust._ The thundring Seas. _Fra._ Mad, stark mad. _Bust._ Will you not give a man leave to con? _Fra._ Yes, and fesse too, e'r I have done with you Sirrah, Am I your father? _Bust._ The question is too hard for a child, ask me any thing That I have learn'd, and I'll answer you. _Fra._ Is that a hard question? Sirrah, am not I your Father? _Bust._ If I had my Mother-wit I could tell you. _Fra._ Are you a thief? _Bust._ So far forth as the Son of a Miller. _Fra._ Will you be hang'd? _Bust._ Let it go by eldership. The gentle Whale.-- _Fra._ Sirrah, lay by your foolish study there, And beat your brains about your own affairs: or-- _Bust._ I thank you; you'ld have me goe under the sails And beat my brains about your Mill? a natural Father you are.-- _Fra._ I charge you goe not to the sports to day: Last night I gave you leave, now I recant. _Bust._ Is the wind turn'd since last night? _Fra._ Marry is it, Sir, go no farther than my Mill; There's my command upon you. _Bust._ I may go round about then as your Mill does? I will see your Mill gelded, and his Stones fry'd in steaks, E'r I deceive the Countrey so: have I not my part to study? How shall the sports go forward, if I be not there? _Fra._ They'll want their fool indeed, if thou be'st not there. _Bust._ Consider that, and go your self. _Fra._ I have fears, (Sir,) that I cannot utter, You goe not, nor your Sister: there's my charge. _Bust._ The price of your golden thumb cannot hold me.