bbat.

_Enter the Abbot with other fryars_.

_Abbott_. Morrow, soonns,
An early blessinge on you, if as the larke
Rysen beetymes still to salute the soon,
So your devotion pluckes you from your bedds
Beefore your hower unto your orisons.
Did you not heare a musicall complaynt
Of women that in sadd and mournefull tones
Bewayld theire late disasters, harshly answerd
By a churlish echo?

_Fr. Jhon_. Som such thinge wee heard.

_Fr. Rich_. The noates still persist with mee.

_Pal_. There appeares
In his grave lookes bothe zeele and charity;
Letts to his sight boldly expose ourselfes.
Hayle, reverent father!

_Abbot_. What are you poore soules
Thus wett and wether-bitt?

_Scrib_. Ere you demand
Further from us, letts tast your Christian charity,
Som fyare, som harbor, least ere our sadd tale
Bee fully tould wee perishe.

_Abbot_. Why, whence came you?

_Pal_. From sea; our shipp last night in the great storme
Cast on these rocks and split; this the fyrst place
Exposed unto our eyes to begge releiff.
But oh I faynt.

_Abbot_. Some[76] faggotts instantly:
Hott brothes, hott water for them, and warme cloathes.
Whome the high powers miraculously preserve,
Whome even the merciles waves have borne ashore,
Shall we soe sinke a land? Even wee our selfes
That lyve and eate by others charity,
To others shall not wee bee charitable?
All succor, all supply that can be given,
They from our hands shall tast.

_Fr. Jhon_. Shall we remove them
Into the cloyster?

_Fr. Rich_. Tis agaynst our oath
On any, though the great'st, extremity
To addmitt women thether.

_Abbot_. That I knowe:
Yet in som out-office see them chear'd,
Want nothinge that the cloyster can affourd.
Theire bewtyes, though my eye be bleynd at them,
Deserve no lesse; I looke on theire distresse
And that I pitty. Ech one lend a hand
To take off from theire present misery
And ease theire tender shoulders; when they are cheer'd
And better comforted, I'l finde occatione
To enquire further from them.

_Pal_. Heaven be as kind
To you as you to us!

_Abb_. Feare not fayre damselles:
This place, though not within the monastery,
Yet stands within the cloysters previledge
And shallbee unto you a sanctuary.

_Scrib_. No other wee expect it.

_Abb_. Guide them in: [_Bell ring_.
Bewty and youthe to pitty 'tis no sinne.

_The bell ringes to mattens. Enter the Lord de Averne
and his Lady. Dennis and others_.

_Fr. Jhon_. Harke, the