Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried, A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen. Suf. Sur. Believe it. Will this work? Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he coasts, And hedges, his own way. But in this point Sur. 'Would he had! Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord; For, I profess, you have it. Suf. There's order given for her coronation: In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her Sur. But, will the king Digest this letter of the cardinal's? The lord forbid! Nor. Suf. Marry, amen! No, no; There be more wasps that buz about his nose, The king cry'd, ha! at this. Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions; which Nor. This same Cranmer's A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the king's business. Nor. Enter IVolsey and Cromwell. Observe, observe, he's moody. Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the king? Crom. To his own hand, in his bedchamber. Presently He did unseal them: and the first he view'd, Wol. To come abroad? Crom. Is he ready I think, by this he is. [Exit Cromwell. Wol. Leave me a-while. It shall be to the dutchess of Alençon, The French king's sister: he shall marry her.— Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him: There is more in it than fair visage.-Bullen! No, we'll no Bullens.-Speedily I wish To hear from Rome.-The marchioness of Pem To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen! This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it; Then, out it goes.-What though I know her vir tuous, And well-deserving? yet I know her for 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 Nor. My lord, we have Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion His eye against the moon: in most strange postures K. Hen. It may well be; There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning As I requir'd; And, wot you, what I found Nor. It's heaven's will; Some spirit put this paper in the packet, To bless your eye withal. K. Hen. If we did think His contemplation were above the earth, Wol. [He takes his seat; and whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolsey. Heaven forgive me! Ever God bless your highness! K. Hen. Good my lord, You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inven Of tory 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. Sir, |