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?
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.