WOLSEY.
[Aside.] The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter,
To be her mistress’ mistress? The Queen’s Queen?
This candle burns not clear. ’Tis I must snuff it;
Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous
And well deserving? Yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i’ th’ bosom of
Our hard-ruled King. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch-one, Cranmer, one
Hath crawled into the favour of the King
And is his oracle.
NORFOLK.
He is vexed at something.
Enter King, reading a schedule, and Lovell.
SURREY.
I would ’twere something that would fret the string,
The master-cord on ’s heart.
SUFFOLK.
The King, the King!
KING.
What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his own portion! And what expense by th’ hour
Seems to flow from him! How, i’ th’ name of thrift
Does he rake this together? Now, my lords,
Saw you the Cardinal?
NORFOLK.
My lord, we have
Stood here observing him. Some strange commotion
Is in his brain. He bites his lip, and starts,
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight
Springs out into fast gait; then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts
His eye against the moon. In most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
KING.
It may well be
There is a mutiny in ’s mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I required; and wot you what I found
There—on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, which
I find at such proud rate that it outspeaks
Possession of a subject.
NORFOLK.
It’s heaven’s will!
Some spirit put this paper in the packet
To bless your eye withal.
KING.
If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth
And fixed on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings, but I am afraid
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering.