I will shrive her from every sin.
Enter Victorian.
Vic. Padre Hypolito! Padre Hypolito!
Hyp. What do you want of Padre Hypolito?
Vic. Come, shrive me straight; for if love be a sin
I am the greatest sinner that doth live.
I will confess the sweetest of all crimes,
A maiden wooed and won.
Hyp. The same old tale
Of the old woman in the chimney corner,