Fr. R. Only the key to ope the cloyster gate, Then all is as it shoold be.
Baker. Tak't, there tis. But make hast, good Fryar Richard; you will else Have no new bredd to dinner.
Fr. R. Feare not, baker; I'l proove her mettall. Thus I back one mare Least I shoold ryde another. [Exit.
Baker. It is the kindest novyce of my consciens That ere woare hood or coole.
[A noyse within. Trampling of Horses.
What noyse is that? now by the Abbot's leave I will looke out and see. [Clere.
Enter Averne and Dennis.
D'Av. Howe nowe? the newes? The cause of that strange uprore?
Den. Strange indeed, But what th'event will bee, I cannott guesse.
D'Av. Howe is it, speake.