SCENE I. London. A gallery in the
palace
Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by LOVELL
GARDINER
It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy
It hath struck.
GARDINER
These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!
Whither so late?
LOVELL
Came you from the king, my lord
GARDINER
I did, Sir Thomas: and left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
LOVELL
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
GARDINER
Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?
It seems you are in haste: an if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: affairs, that walk,
As they say spirits do, at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.
LOVELL
My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour,
They say, in great extremity; and fear'd
She'll with the labour end.
GARDINER
The fruit she goes with
I pray for heartily, that it may find
Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd up now.
LOVELL
Methinks I could
Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
GARDINER
But, sir, sir,
Hear me, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.
LOVELL
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Beside that of the jewel house, is made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,
With which the time will load him. The archbishop
Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak
One syllable against him?
GARDINER
Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day,
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have
Incensed the lords o' the council, that he is,
For so I know he is, they know he is,
A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace
And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
LOVELL
Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant.
Exeunt GARDINER and Page
Enter KING HENRY VIII and SUFFOLK
KING HENRY VIII
Charles, I will play no more tonight;
My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.
SUFFOLK
Sir, I did never win of you before.
KING HENRY VIII
But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
LOVELL
I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the great'st humbleness, and desired your highness
Most heartily to pray for her.
KING HENRY VIII
What say'st thou, ha?
To pray for her? what, is she crying out?
LOVELL
So said her woman; and that her sufferance made
Almost each pang a death.
KING HENRY VIII
Alas, good lady!
SUFFOLK
God safely quit her of her burthen, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!
KING HENRY VIII
'Tis midnight, Charles;
Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to.
SUFFOLK
I wish your highness
A quiet night; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.
KING HENRY VIII
Charles, good night.
Exit SUFFOLK
Enter DENNY
Well, sir, what follows?
DENNY
Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,
As you commanded me.
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