Bust. 'Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me; There's no trust in these Millers. Woman, tell the truth: my father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was, were he Knight, Squire, or Captain; less he should not be.
Gill. Thou art mine own child, Boy.
Bust. And was the Miller my Father?
Gill. Wouldst thou make thy Mother a whore, Knave?
Bust. I, if she make me a Bastard. The rack must make her confess (my Lord) I shall never come to know who I am else. I have a worshipful mind in me sure: methinks I do scorn poor folks.
Enter Otrante, Florimel and Julio, &c.
Phil. Here comes the brightest glory of the day:
Love yoak'd with love, the best equality,
Without the level of estate or person.
Jul. You both shall be rewarded bountifully,
Wee'll be akin too; Brother and Sister
Shall be chang'd with us ever.
Bust. Thank you (Unkle) my sister is my cosen yet at the last cast: Farewell sister foster. If I had known the Civil Law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of Husband then thou hast: but much good do thee; I'll dance at thy wedding, kiss the Bride, and so.
Jul. Why, how now sirha?