4. SONG.
Think me still in my Fathers Mill,
where I have oft been found-a
Thrown on my back, on a well-fill'd sack,
while the Mill has still gone round-a:
Prethe sirrah try thy skill,
and again let the Mill go round-a.
Otr. Then you have traded?
Flo. Traded? how should I know else how to live Sir,
And how to satisfie such Lords as you are,
Our best guests, and our richest?
Otr. How I shake now!
You take no base men?
Flo. Any that will offer,
All manner of men, and all Religions Sir,
We touch at in our time: all States and Ages,
We exempt none.
5. SONG.
The young one, the old one, the fearful, the bold one,
the lame one, though nere so unsound,
The Jew or the Turk, have leave for to work,
the whilst that the Mill goes round.
Otr. You are a common thing then.
Flo. No matter since you have your private pleasure,
And have it by an Artist excellent,
Whether I am thus, or thus, your men can tell ye.