Vir. Pardon us, my lord, we were wrong'd.
Pol. And sought redress but by a lawful course.
King. Well, leave me alone.
Vir. Farewell, my liege. Now let him chafe alone.
Pol. Now we have our ends.
[Exeunt.
King. Is there no means to save him, no way
To get a dispensation for an oath?
None that I know, except the court of Rome
Will grant one: that's well thought on;
I will not spare for gold, and that will do it.
Nicanor!
Enter Nicanor.
Nic. Sir!
King. What book is that
Thou hadst from Paris about the price of sins?