_Water Myller._ What the devyll shold skyl,[146] though all the world were dum, Syns in all our spekynge we never be harde? We crye out for rayne, the devyll sped drop wyll cum. 445 We water myllers be nothynge in regarde. No water have we to grynde at any stynt, The wynde is so stronge the rayne cannot fall, Whyche kepeth our myldams as drye as a flynt. We are undone, we grynde nothynge at all, 450 The greter is the pyte, as thynketh me. For what avayleth to eche man his corne, Tyll it be grounde by such men as we be? There is the loss, yf we be forborne.[147] For, touchynge our-selfes, we are but drudgys, 455 And very beggers save onely our tole, B iv Whiche is ryght smale and yet many grudges For gryste of a busshell to gyve a quarte bole.[148] Yet, were not reparacyons, we myght do wele. Our mylstons, our whele with her kogges, & our trindill[149] 460 Our floodgate, our mylpooll, our water whele, Our hopper,[150] our extre,[151] our yren spyndyll, In this and mych more so great is our charge, That we wolde not recke though no water ware, Save onely it toucheth eche man so large, 465 And ech for our neyghbour Cryste byddeth us care. Wherfore my conscience hath prycked me hyther, In thys to sewe, accordynge to the cry,[152] For plente of raine to the god Jupiter To whose presence I wyll go evyn boldely. 470 _Mery-reporte._ Sir, I dowt nothynge your audacyte, But I feare me ye lacke capacyte, For, yf ye were wyse, ye myghte well espye, How rudely ye erre from rewls of courtesye. What! ye come in revelynge and reheytynge,[153] 475 Evyn as a knave might go to a beare-beytynge! _Water Myller._ All you bere recorde what favour I have! Herke, howe famylyerly he calleth me knave! Dowtles the gentylman is universall! But marke thys lesson, syr. You shulde never call 480 Your felow knave, nor your brother horeson; For nought can ye get by it, when ye have done. _Mery-reporte._ Thou arte nother brother nor felowe to me, For I am goddes servaunt, mayst thou not se? Wolde ye presume to speke with the great god? 485 Nay, dyscrecyon and you be to farre od![154] Byr lady, these knaves must be tyed shorter.[155] Syr, who let you in? Spake ye with the porter?