Bust. So far forth as the Son of a Miller.
Fra. Will you be hang'd?
Bust. Let it go by eldership. The gentle Whale.—
Fra. Sirrah, lay by your foolish study there,
And beat your brains about your own affairs: or—
Bust. I thank you; you'ld have me goe under the sails
And beat my brains about your Mill? a natural
Father you are.—
Fra. I charge you goe not to the sports to day:
Last night I gave you leave, now I recant.
Bust. Is the wind turn'd since last night?
Fra. Marry is it, Sir, go no farther than my Mill;
There's my command upon you.
Bust. I may go round about then as your Mill does?
I will see your Mill gelded, and his Stones fry'd in steaks,
E'r I deceive the Countrey so: have I not my part to study?
How shall the sports go forward, if I be not there?
Fra. They'll want their fool indeed, if thou be'st not there.