Amongst a group of rustics collected on the road leading to the
north-east gateway, was Cuthbert Ashbead, who having been deprived of
his forester's office, was now habited in a frieze doublet and hose with
a short camlet cloak on his shoulder, and a fox-skin cap, embellished
with the grinning jaws of the beast on his head.

"Eigh, Ruchot o' Roaph's," he observed to a bystander, "that's a fearfo
sect that gallas. Yoan been up to t' Holehouses to tey a look at it,
beloike?"

"Naw, naw, ey dunna loike such sects," replied Ruchot o' Roaph's;
"besoide there wor a great rabblement at t' geate, an one o' them lunjus
archer chaps knockt meh o' t' nob wi' his poike, an towd me he'd hong me
wi' t' abbut, if ey didna keep owt ot wey."

"An sarve te reet too, theaw craddinly carl!" cried Ashbead, doubling
his horny fists. "Odds flesh! whey didna yo ha' a tussle wi' him? Mey
honts are itchen for a bowt wi' t' heretic robbers. Walladey! walladey!
that we should live to see t' oly feythers driven loike hummobees owt o'
t' owd neest. Whey they sayn ot King Harry hon decreet ot we're to ha'
naw more monks or friars i' aw Englondshiar. Ony think o' that. An dunna
yo knoa that t' Abbuts o' Jervaux an Salley wor hongt o' Tizeday at
Loncaster Castle?"

"Good lorjus bless us!" exclaimed a sturdy hind, "we'n a protty king.
Furst he chops off his woife's heaod, an then hongs aw t' priests.
Whot'll t' warlt cum 'to?

"Eigh by t' mess, whot _win_ it cum to?" cried Ruchot o' Roaph's. "But