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Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,
Sur. Has the king this?
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 ! Suf. May you be happy in
be happy in your wish, my lord; For, I profess, you have it. Sur.
Now all my joy
My amen to't!
All men's. Suf. There's order given for her coronation: Marry, this is
But, will the king
The lord forbid !
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. Nor.
So I hear.
Enter IVolsey and Cromwell.
Is he ready
I think, by this he is.
broke! Nor. He's discontented. Suf.
May be, he hears the king Does whet his anger to him. Sur.
Sharp enough, Lord, for thy justice! Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's Then, out it goes.—What though I know her vir
daughter, To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it:
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. Suf.
The king, the king. K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumu
lated To his own portion! and what expence by the hour Seems to flow from him! How, i’the name of thrift, Does he rake this together!-Now, my lords; Saw you the cardinal? Nor.
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 time 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.