WOLSEY.
Let me see, then.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I’ll make
My royal choice.
KING.
[Unmasking.] Ye have found him, Cardinal.
You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord.
You are a churchman, or I’ll tell you, Cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
WOLSEY.
I am glad
Your Grace is grown so pleasant.
KING.
My Lord Chamberlain,
Prithee come hither. What fair lady’s that?
CHAMBERLAIN.
An’t please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen’s daughter,
The Viscount Rochford, one of her Highness’ women.
KING.
By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly to take you out
And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!
Let it go round.
WOLSEY.
Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I’ th’ privy chamber?
LOVELL.
Yes, my lord.
WOLSEY.
Your Grace,
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
KING.
I fear, too much.