GARDINER.
But, sir, sir,
Hear me, Sir Thomas. You’re a gentleman
Of mine own way. I know you wise, religious;
And let me tell you, it will ne’er be well,
’Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take’t of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she
Sleep in their graves.
LOVELL.
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remarked i’ th’ kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master
O’ th’ Rolls, and the King’s secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him. Th’ Archbishop
Is the King’s hand and tongue, and who dare speak
One syllable against him?
GARDINER.
Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare, and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him. And indeed this day,
Sir—I may tell it you, I think—I have
Incensed the lords o’ th’ Council, that he is—
For so I know he is, they know he is—
A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land; with which they, moved,
Have broken with the King, who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace
And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded
Tomorrow morning to the Council board
He be convented. He’s a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long. Good night, Sir Thomas.
LOVELL.
Many good nights, my lord. I rest your servant.
[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.]
Enter King and Suffolk.
KING.
Charles, I will play no more tonight.
My mind’s not on’t; you are too hard for me.
SUFFOLK.
Sir, I did never win of you before.
KING.
But little, Charles,
Nor shall not, when my fancy’s on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?
LOVELL.
I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message, who returned her thanks
In the great’st humbleness, and desired your Highness
Most heartily to pray for her.