Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a commission.
Who’s there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king. [To Campeius.] You’re welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us and it. [To Wolsey.] My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.
WOLSEY.
Sir, you cannot.
I would your Grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
KING.
[To Norfolk and Suffolk.] We are busy. Go.
NORFOLK.
[Aside to Suffolk.] This priest has no pride in him?
SUFFOLK.
[Aside to Norfolk.] Not to speak of.
I would not be so sick, though, for his place.
But this cannot continue.
NORFOLK.
[Aside to Suffolk.] If it do,
I’ll venture one have-at-him.
SUFFOLK.
[Aside to Norfolk.] I another.
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.]
WOLSEY.
Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now? What envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks—
I mean the learned ones in Christian kingdoms—
Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of judgement,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,
Whom once more I present unto your Highness.