NORFOLK.
Let’s in,
And with some other business put the King
From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.
My lord, you’ll bear us company?
CHAMBERLAIN.
Excuse me;
The King has sent me otherwhere. Besides,
You’ll find a most unfit time to disturb him.
Health to your lordships.
NORFOLK.
Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain, and the King draws the curtain and sits reading pensively.]
SUFFOLK.
How sad he looks! Sure, he is much afflicted.
KING.
Who’s there? Ha?
NORFOLK.
Pray God he be not angry.
KING.
Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I? Ha?
NORFOLK.
A gracious king that pardons all offences
Malice ne’er meant. Our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate, in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.
KING.
Ye are too bold.
Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business.
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?