CRANMER.
Why?
KEEPER.
Your Grace must wait till you be called for.
Enter Doctor Butts.
CRANMER.
So.
BUTTS.
[Aside.] This is a piece of malice. I am glad
I came this way so happily. The King
Shall understand it presently.
[Exit.]
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?