[Knocking.]
Not for me I hope. [Opens the door] What? Who? The Bishop of St.
James's!
Sir T. St. James's! Come—come in!
[Enter Gervase Sackville, Bishop of St. James's.]
I thought the east
Had held you captive for another month.
St. J. I finished what I gave myself to do
In half the time I judged the work would take.
Lady S. Oh, welcome, Gervase! Like a single sorrow
You come to bless us: wonder at my words;
They have the sweetest meaning. Fortune comes
With Gervase, Tristram—how, I cannot tell:
Or short, or long, it comes: I feel it here;
But yet I go to guard the ark.
St. J. The ark?
Lady S. The theatre, the play, the purse—our lives!
[Goes out.]
St. J. My cousin's moody, Tristram.