_D'Av_. But the sequell?--
The clamour still increasethe. [_Noyse_.
_Enter the Baker rooninge_.
_Baker_. Oh never, never,
Was seene such open mallyce!
_Den_. What's the busines?
_Baker_. Give mee but leave to breath--Oh especially in a cloyster!
_Den_. Out wee't, man.
_Baker_. The novyce _Richard_, to save mee a labour,
Borrowed my mare to fetch meale for the mill.
I knowe not howe the devill Fryar _Jhon_ knew't,
But all in armor watch't him gooinge out
And after spurrs to chardge him, beeinge unarmd,
0 suer if hee cannott reatch him with his lance
Hee'l speede him with his pistolls.
_Denis_. All's well yet.
[_Noyse_.
_Baker_. This noyse hath cal'd much people from there bedds,
And troobled the whole villadge.
_Fr. R_. (_within_). Hold, hold, I do confesse the murder.
_Baker_. Suer hee hath slayne him, for murder is confest.
_D'Av_. Tis better still.
_Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, &c_.
_Godf_. Was never knowne the lyke!
_Baker_. Is _Ritchard_ slayne?
I sawe Fryar _Jhon_, arm'd dreadfully with weapons
Not to be worne in peace, pursue his lyfe;
All which I'l tell the abbott.
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