He eats when he's hungry, he drinks when he's dry,
And down when he's weary contented does lie;
Then rises up chearful to work and to sing:
If so happy a Miller, then who'd be a King.
Mil. There's a Song for you.
King. He should go sing this at Court, I think.
Dick. I believe, if he's wise, he'll chuse to stay at home tho'.
Enter Peggy.
Mil. What Wind blew you hither pray? You have a good Share of Impudence, or you would be asham'd to set your Foot within my House, methinks.
Peg. Asham'd I am, indeed, but do not call me impudent.