(He takes a drawing from the drawer in front of him and places it before Cromwell, on the case of papers.)
That approaches any of the masters, I think.
Cromwell:
Good—yes. And yet Hans Holbein was incomparable—not so assertive—no, copious, and yet as complete, simpler. But—yes, there is great dignity here.
(He holds up the drawing in front of him, holding it against the folio case for firmness. Charles makes a movement, but instantly restrains himself. Cromwell is about to replace the drawing and case on the table, when his glance falls on Neal's paper, which is lying in front of him. He sees nothing, but a second glance arrests all his movement. After a moment he turns to look fixedly at the King. There is a silence; then:)
Cromwell:
What in the name of God is this?
(Striking the paper with his hand.)
Charles:
It is private to ourselves.