_Fr. Jhon_. Oh terrible!
_Abbot_. Or, if that will not tame you,
I will complayne to'th fownder of your loosenes,
Your riotts, and disorders, and petition
That you, as sowers off seditious hatred[62]
And sole disturbers of our common peace,
Maye bee excluded this society,
Banisht by common barre-law, and shutt out
To publick shame and beggerye.
_Fr. Rich_. Horrible!
_Fr. Jhon_. Fyrst then to showe my submisse willingnes
And forwardnes withall: with as much charity
As any new reformed man maye doo,
I with a zeale and hart new reconsiled
Thus humbly begge his love.
(Y'are a rogue, _Ritchard_.)
_Fr. Rich_. To meete his trewe
And most unfeigned affection, heare in face
And viewe of this our holly brotherhoode,
As if in open coort with this mi[63] breath
I heare confine all hatred.
(_Jhon_, y'are a Jack sauce, I meane a sawcye Jacke.)
_Fr. Jhon_. The orchard.
_Fr. Rich_. Theare.
_Abbot_. Why, this is as it should bee, and becomes
A trew religious order. Such as are sequestred
And vowed unto a strict monasticke lyfe,
Ought to putt off these grosse and prophane sinnes
Most frequent amongst laye-men.
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