[♦] Purs. God save your lordship. [Exit.
Enter a Priest.
[110] Priest. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour.
Hast. I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart.
[♦] I am in your debt for your last exercise;
[♦] Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. [He whispers in his ear.
Enter BUCKINGHAM.
[♦] Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain?
115 Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest;
[♦] Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.