RAPH.
An hour ago.
BRIAN.
S'life, is there stealers abroad, and they cannot hear
Of them: where the devil are my men to night?
Sirra, go up the wind towards Buckleyes lodge.
I'll cast about the bottom with my hound,
And I will meet thee under Cony ocke.
RAPH.
I will, Sir.
BRIAN. How now? by the mass, my hound stays upon something; hark, hark, Bowman, hark, hark, there!
MILLISCENT.
Brother, Frank Jerningham, brother Clare!
BRIAN. Peace; that's a woman's voice! Stand! who's there? Stand, or I'll shoot.
MILLISCENT.
O Lord! hold your hands, I mean no harm, sir.
BRIAN.
Speak, who are you?
MILLISCENT.
I am a maid, sir; who? Master Brian?
BRIAN.
The very same; sure, I should know her voice;
Mistris Milliscent?