Mood. Ods bobs, this is very pretty.
Mill. Ay, so is the lady's answer too, if I could but hit on't.
SINGS.
And when the stars twinkle so bright, Then down to the door will I creep; To my love will I fly, E'er the jealous can spy, And leave my old daddy asleep.
Mood. Bodikins, I like not that so well, to cozen her old father: it may be my own case another time.
Rose. Oh, madam! yonder's your persecutor returned.
Enter Sir John.
Mill. I'll into my chamber, to avoid the sight of him as long as I can. Lord! that my old doating father should throw me away upon such an ignoramus, and deny me to such a wit as Sir Martin.
[Exeunt Mill.and Rose from above.
Mood. O, son! here has been the most villainous tragedy against you.
Sir John. What tragedy? Has there been any blood shed since I went?