“You have, then, fulfilled my command, and composed a new interlude?” cried the king, vivaciously.
“No interlude, but a wholly novel, comical affair—a play full of lampoons and jokes, at which your eyes are to overflow, yet not with weeping, but with laughter. To the right noble Earl of Surrey belongs the proud honor of having presented to our happy England her first sonnets. Well, now, I also will give her something new. I present her the first comedy; and as he sings the beauty of his Geraldine, so I celebrate the fame of Gammer Gurton’s sewing-needle—Gammer Gurton’s needle—so my piece is called; and you, King Henry, shall listen to it as a punishment for your sins!”
“I will do so,” cried the king, cheerfully, “provided you permit it, Kate! But before I do so, I make also one more condition—a condition for you, queen! Kate, you have disdained to impose a penance on me, but grant me at least the pleasure of being allowed to fulfil some wish of yours! Make me a request, that I may grant it you!”
“Well, then, my lord and king,” said Catharine with a charming smile, “I beg you to think no more of the incidents of this day, and to forgive those whom I accused, only because their accusation was my vindication. They who brought charges against me have in this hour felt contrition for their own fault. Let that suffice, king, and forgive them, as I do!”
“You are a noble and great woman, Kate!” cried the king; and, as his glance swept over toward Gardiner with an almost contemptuous expression, he continued: “Your request is granted. But woe to them who shall dare accuse you again! And have you nothing further to demand, Kate?”
“Nay, one thing more, my lord and husband!” She leaned nearer to the king’s ear, and whispered: “They have also accused your noblest and most faithful servant; they have accused Cranmer. Condemn him not, king, without having heard him; and if I may beg a favor of you, it is this: talk with Cranmer yourself. Tell him of what they have charged him, and hear his vindication.”
“It shall be so, Kate,” said the king, “and you shall be present! But let this be a secret between us, Kate, and we will carry it out in perfect silence. And now, then, John Heywood, let us hear your composition; and woe to you, if it does not accomplish what you promised—if it does not make us laugh! For you well know that you are then inevitably exposed to the rods of our injured ladies.”
“They shall have leave to whip me to death, if I do not make you laugh!” cried John Heywood, gayly, as he drew out his manuscript.
Soon the hall rang again with loud laughter; and in the universal merriment no one observed that Bishop Gardiner and Earl Douglas slipped quietly away.
In the anteroom without, they stopped and looked at each other long and silently; their countenances expressed the wrath and bitterness which filled them; and they understood this mute language of their features.