_King._ I am not used to lie, honest Man.
_Mil._ What! do you live at Court, and not lie! that's a likely Story indeed.
_King._ Be that as it will. I speak Truth now I assure you; and, to convince you of it, if you will attend me to _Nottingham_, if I am near it; or give me a Night's Lodging in your own House, here is something to pay you for your Trouble, and if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the Morning to your utmost Desire.
_Mil._ Ay, now I am convinc'd you are a Courtier; here is a little Bribe for to Day, and a large Promise for To-morrow, both in a Breath: Here, take it again, and take this along with it----_John Cockle_ is no Courtier, he can do what he ought----without a Bribe.
_King._ Thou art a very extraordinary Man I must own; and I should be glad, methinks, to be further acquainted with thee.
_Mil._ Thee! and Thou! Prythee don't thee and thou me; I believe I am as good a Man as yourself at least.
_Mil._ Nay, I am not angry, Friend, only I don't love to be too familiar with any-body, before I know whether they deserve it or not.
_King._ You are in the Right. But what am I to do?
_Mil._ You may do what you please. You are twelve Miles from _Nottingham_, and all the Way through this thick Wood; but if you are resolv'd upon going thither to Night, I will put you in the Road, and direct you the best I can; or if you will accept of such poor Entertainment as a Miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay all Night, and in the Morning I will go with you myself.
_King._ And cannot you go with me to Night?
_Mil._ I would not go with you to Night if you was the King.
_King._ Then I must go with you, I think. [_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to the Town of_ Mansfield.
Well, dear _Mansfield_, I am glad to see thy Face again. But my Heart aches, methinks, for fear this should be only a Trick of theirs to get me into their Power. Yet the Letter seems to be wrote with an Air of Sincerity, I confess; and the Girl was never us'd to lie till she kept a Lord Company. Let me see, I'll read it once more.
_I am at last (tho' much too late for me) convinc'd of the Injury done to us both by that base Man, who made me think you false; he contriv'd these Letters, which I send you, to make me think you just upon the Point of being married to another, a Thought I could not bear with Patience, so aiming at Revenge on you, consented to my own Undoing. But for your own sake I beg you to return hither, for I have some Hopes of being able to do you Justice, which is the only Comfort of your most distrest but ever affectionate,_