“Who accompanied the queen besides?” inquired Henry the Eighth, emptying the golden beaker at a draught, as though he would thereby cool the fire which already began to blaze within him. But the fiery Rhenish wine instead of cooling only heated him yet more; it drove, like a tempest, the fire kindled in his jealous heart in bright flames to his head, and made his brain glow like his heart.
“Who else accompanied her beside these?” asked Earl Douglas carelessly. “Well, I think, the lord chamberlain, Earl of Surrey.”
A dark scowl gathered on the king’s brow. The lion had scented his prey.
“The lord chamberlain is not in the queen’s train!” said John Heywood earnestly.
“No,” exclaimed Earl Douglas. “The poor earl. That will make him very sad.”
“And why think you that will make him sad?” asked the king in a voice very like the roll of distant thunder.
“Because the Earl of Surrey is accustomed to live in the sunshine of royal favor, sire; because he resembles that flower which always turns its head to the sun, and receives from it vigor, color, and brilliancy.”
“Let him take care that the sun does not scorch him,” muttered the king.
“Earl,” said John Heywood, “you must put on your spectacles so that you can see better. This time you have confounded the sun with one of its satellites. Earl Surrey is far too prudent a man to be so foolish as to gaze at the sun, and thereby blind his eyes and parch his brain. And so he is satisfied to worship one of the planets that circle round the sun.”
“What does the fool intend to say by that?” asked the earl contemptuously.