[LADY FAUCONBRIDGE retires a little.
JOHN. Good day, old hermit.
FAU. So to you, fair dame.
JOHN. By Elinor's grey eye, she's fair indeed.
Sweet heart, come ye for holy benisons?
Hermit, hast thou good custom with such clients?
I cannot blame your feats, your juggling tricks,
Plague juggle you!
LADY F. Why curse ye sacred worth?
FAU. Ill done, in sooth, my Lord, very ill done,
Wrong holiness! a very pretty woman! [aside.]
Mock gravity! by the mass a cherry lip! [aside.]
Ah, it's not well done [to] deride a holy hermit!
JOHN. I have it in my purse shall make amends.
SKINK. His purse and yours shall make me some amends
For hind'ring me this morning from the lady;
For scaring me at tavern yesternight:
For having back your chain, I'll fit you both. [Aside.
JOHN. Hermit, a word.
FAU. A word with you, fair mistress.