Manchester. The Interior of a Mill.

[Enter the Miller and Em, his daughter.]


MILLER.
Come, daughter, we must learn to shake of pomp,
To leave the state that earst beseemd a Knight
And gentleman of no mean discent,
To undertake this homelie millers trade:
Thus must we mask to save our wretched lives,
Threatned by Conquest of this hapless Yle,
Whose sad invasions by the Conqueror
Have made a number such as we subject
Their gentle necks unto their stubborn yoke
Of drudging labour and base peasantry.
Sir Thomas Godard now old Goddard is,
Goddard the miller of fair Manchester.
Why should not I content me with this state,
As good Sir Edmund Trofferd did the flaile?
And thou, sweet Em, must stoop to high estate
To join with mine that thus we may protect
Our harmless lives, which, led in greater port,
Would be an envious object to our foes,
That seek to root all Britains Gentry
From bearing countenance against their tyranny.

EM.
Good Father, let my full resolved thoughts