Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried, Sur. Has the king this? Believe it. Will this work? Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he coasts, And hedges, his own way. But in this point All his tricks founder, and he brings his physick. After his patient's death; the king already Hath married the fair lady. Sur. 'Would he had ! Now all my joy My amen to't! All men’s. Suf. There's order given for her coronation: Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left To some ears unrecounted.-But, my lords, She is a gallant creature, and complete In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall In it be memoriz’d. Sur. But, will the king Digest this letter of the cardinal's? The lord forbid ! Marry, amen! No, no; There be more wasps that buz about his nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Canipeius. Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta’en no leave; Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, To second all his plot. I do assure you The king cry’d, ha! at this. Chan. Now, God incense him, And let him cry ha, louder! Nor. But, my lord, Suf. He is return’d, in his opinions; which This same Cranmer's He has; and we shall see him For it, an archbishop. So I hear. Suf. 'Tis so. The cardinal Nor. rea Enter IVolscy and Cromwell. king? Presently Is he ready I think, by this he is. broke! · May be, he hears the king Sharp enough, daughter, To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!• This candle burns not clear: ’tis I must snuff it; broke! car's Then, out it goes.—What though I know her vir tuous, And well-deserving? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to Our cause, that she should lie i’ the bosom of Our hard-ruld king. Again, there is sprung up An heretick, an arch one, Cranmer; one Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king, And is his oracle. Nor. He is vex'd at something. Sur. I would, 'twere something that would fret the string, . The master-cord of his heart! Enter the King, reading a schedule; and Lovell. The king, the king. lated My lord, we have Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight, Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again, Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts His eye against the moon: in most strange postures We have seen him set himself. K. Hen. It may well be; There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning It's heaven's will; If we did think [He takes his seat; and whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolsey. Heaven forgive me!- Good my lord, tory Of your best graces in your mind; the which You were now running o'er: you have scarce tim To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span, To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that I deem you an ill husband; and am glad To have you therein my companion. Wol. Sir, |