CRANMER.
[Aside.] ’Tis Butts,
The King’s physician. As he passed along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!
Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace. For certain,
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me—
God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice—
To quench mine honour. They would shame to make me
Wait else at door, a fellow councillor,
’Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures
Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King and Butts at a window above.
BUTTS.
I’ll show your Grace the strangest sight.
KING.
What’s that, Butts?
BUTTS.
I think your Highness saw this many a day.
KING.
Body o’ me, where is it?
BUTTS.
There, my lord:
The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his state at door, ’mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and footboys.
KING.
Ha! ’Tis he, indeed.
Is this the honour they do one another?
’Tis well there’s one above ’em yet. I had thought
They had parted so much honesty among ’em—
At least good manners—as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships’ pleasures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there’s knavery!
Let ’em alone, and draw the curtain close.
We shall hear more anon.
[Exeunt.]
A council table brought in with chairs and stools and placed under the state. Enter Lord Chancellor, places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand, a seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury’s seat. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner seat themselves in order on each side; Cromwell at lower end, as secretary.