_Bump._ What, to my hanging? O' my Conscience, if I should woo my heart out, I should never be the fatter for it.--Where's your promise now? _1. Hunt._ You have not yet exprest yourself; be plain, tell them your grief; a remedy will follow. _Bump._ If that be all, 'tis an easy matter, pray take notice that I am in love--with somebody. _2. Co. Wench._ Would I were she. _Bump._ Why, so you are, if you have a mind to it. _2 Co. Wench._ Why then, you are my own. _3. Co. Wench._ Pardon me, Sister, I bespake him yesterday. (_They all hang about him_) _Bump._ Yes, marry did she (Goes to her). _1. Co. Wench._ But I was she that won him at the May pole. _2. Co. Wench._ Was that the Cause you strove so for the Garland. _Bump._ What's that to you? (_Goes to her._) Would I had any of them in quietness. _3. Co. Wench._ But yet I must have share. _1. Co. Wench._ So must I too. (_All pull him_) _2. Co. Wench._ I will not part without the better half. _Bump._ Then who shall have me whole? what--are you mad? _3. Co. Wench._ Theres reason for a madness in this Case. _1. Co. Wench._ I will not loose my right. Let go, I say. _2. Co. Wench._ He shall be mine, or else he shall be nothing. _Bump._ Away you burrs, why do you stick so on me? Now by this hand, if nothing can perswade you, I'le drown myself for spight, that you may perish. (_Horn_) _1. Hunt._ Hark, hark, my Lord _Acteons_ warning piece; That Horn gives us intelligence he doth intend to Spend this day in hunting: _Bumpkin_ why stay you? the hounds will quarrel with you: we'l come after. _1. Co. Wench._ Will you not stay, my Love? _Bump._ I'le see you hang'd first, and by this hand, ere I will be in love again, I will feed my hounds with my own proper Carcase. (_Exit_) _2. Co. Wench._ Now he is gone, our dancing may go forward. _2. Hunt._ My Lord Acteon stays, be quick, I pray. _3. Co. Wench._ Quick as you will; the doing of it quick, makes it shew the better. (_A Country Dance. Then Exeunt._) _Enter Acteon and Bumpkin._ _Acteon._ Be nimble, Sirrah. _Bump._ Nimble? yes, as a bear that hath been lug'd to purpose: if Love be such a troublesome Companion I will entreat him to keep out of my Company. _Acteon._ We consume the day. _Bump._ They have saved me a labour. _Acteon._ Fie, what mean you? The glory of the day calls us to action. _1. Hunt._ Sir, you may please to know, that yesternight I lodged a boar within the neighbouring Forest. _Bump._ Yes, Sir, and I lodged a Fox at a house hard by. A pleasant new Ballad to sing both Even and Morne, Of the bloody murther of Sir _John Barley corne_. To the tune of, _Shall I lye beyond thee_.[F. 125] As I went through the North Countrey [76.] I heard a merry greeting: A pleasant toy, and full of joy, two noble men were meeting.