MILLER.
How now, Trotter? why complainest thou so?

TROTTER.
Why, yonder is a company of young men and maids, keep such a
stir for their grist, that they would have it before my stones
be ready to grind it. But, yfaith, I would I could break wind
enough backward: you should not tarry for your gryst, I
warrant you.

MILLER.
Content thee, Trotter, I will go pacify them.

TROTTER.
Iwis you will when I cannot. Why, look, you have a Mill--
Why, whats your Mill without me? Or rather, Mistress, what
were I without you?

[Here he taketh Em about the neck.]

EM.
Nay, Trotter, if you fall achyding, I will give you over.

TROTTER.
I chide you, dame, to amend you. You are too fine to be a
Millers daughter; for if you should but stoop to take up the
tole dish, you will have the cramp in your finger at least
ten weeks after.