Bust. Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Jul. So, here's a Passion towards.
Bust. Help, help, if you be Gentlemen; my Sister,
My Venus; she's stolen away.
Jul. The story changes from our expectation.
Bust. Help, my father, the Miller will hang me else: god Mars
Is a bawdy Villain: he said she should ride upon Doves:
She's hors'd, she's hors'd, whether she will or no.
Mar. Sure I think he's serious.
Bust. She's hors'd upon a double Gelding, and a Stone-horse in the breech
Of her: the poor wench cries help, and I cry help, and none
Of you will help.
Jul. Speak, is it the show, or dost thou bawl?
Bust. A pox on the Ball: my Sister bawls, and I bawl:
Either bridle horse and follow, or give me a halter
To hang my self: I cannot run so fast as a hog.
Jul. Follow me, I'll fill the Countrey with pursuit
But I will find the thief: my house thus abus'd?