Although our outward pomp be thus abased,
And thralde to drudging, stayless of the world,
Let us retain those honorable minds
That lately governed our superior state,
Wherein true gentry is the only mean
That makes us differ from base millers borne.
Though we expect no knightly delicates,
Nor thirst in soul for former soverainty,
Yet may our minds as highly scorn to stoop
To base desires of vulgars worldliness,
As if we were in our precedent way.
And, lovely daughter, since thy youthful years
Must needs admit as young affections,
And that sweet love unpartial perceives
Her dainty subjects through every part,
In chief receive these lessons from my lips,
The true discovers of a Virgins due,
Now requisite, now that I know thy mind
Something enclined to favour Manvils suit,
A gentleman, thy Lover in protest;
And that thou maist not be by love deceived,
But try his meaning fit for thy desert,
In pursuit of all amorous desires,
Regard thine honour. Let not vehement sighs,
Nor earnest vows importing fervent love,
Render thee subject to the wrath of lust:
For that, transformed to form of sweet delight,
Will bring thy body and thy soul to shame.
Chaste thoughts and modest conversations,
Of proof to keep out all inchaunting vows,
Vain sighs, forst tears, and pitiful aspects,
Are they that make deformed Ladies fair,
Poor rich: and such intycing men,
That seek of all but only present grace,
Shall in perseverance of a Virgins due
Prefer the most refusers to the choice
Of such a soul as yielded what they thought.
But ho: where is Trotter?

[Here enters Trotter, the Millers man, to them: And they
within call to him for their gryste.]

TROTTER.
Wheres Trotter? why, Trotter is here. Yfaith, you and your
daughter go up and down weeping and wamenting, and keeping of
a wamentation, as who should say, the Mill would go with your
wamenting.

MILLER.
How now, Trotter? why complainest thou so?

TROTTER.
Why, yonder is a company of young men and maids, keep such a
stir for their grist, that they would have it before my stones
be ready to grind it. But, yfaith, I would I could break wind
enough backward: you should not tarry for your gryst, I
warrant you.