_Fr. Jhon_. I, alas?
A weaknes from my childhood, I confesse,
I ever had and cannott helpe it nowe,
To have a trobled countenance. I make mouthes?
This (most observed father) but approoves
My innosens and his envye. Markt you that?
Fryar _Richard_ bent his fyst and threatned mee.
I call all these to witnesse.
_Fr. Rich_. No such thinge.
I have a crampe oft takes me in this hand
And makes mee weare clutcht ringers, and that passion
Now came upon mee; but for meanacinge him
It ever was farr from mee. This but showes
His owld inveterate mallice, which in charity
I wishe might heare lye buried.--Syrrah, anon
I'l have you by the eares.
_Fr. Jhon_. Doo if thou darst;
We'll tugge it out by the teeth.
_Fr. Rich_. Meete me i'th orchard
Just after even song.
_Fr. Jhon_. I will make short prayers
Bycause I'l keepe appointment.
_Abbot_. I am playne
And breife with all: eather betwixt you too [_sic_]
Make frendly reconsilement, and in presence
Of this your brotherhood (for what is fryar
But _frater_, and that's brother?), or my selfe
Out of my power will putt you to a penance
Shall make you in one weeke fyve fasting-dayes.
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