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• The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth: Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Prologue.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: London. an Antechamber In the Palace.
• Scene II.—: The Council Chamber.
• Scene III.—: A Room In the Palace.
• Scene IV.—: The Presence-chamber In York-place.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Westminster. a Street.
• Scene II.—: An Antechamber In the Palace.
• Scene III.—: An Antechamber In Thequeen’sapartments.
• Scene IV.—: A Hall In Black-friars.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: The Palace At Bridewell. a Room In Thequeen’sapartment.
• Scene II.—: Antechamber to Theking’sapartment.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: A Street In Westminster.
• Scene II.—: Kimbolton.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: London. a Gallery In the Palace.
• Scene II.—: The Lobby Before the Council-chamber.
• Scene III.—: The Council-chamber.
• Scene IV.—: The Palace-yard.
• Scene V.—: The Palace.
• Epilogue.

Scene II.—

The Lobby before the Council-Chamber.

EnterCranmer; Pursuivants, Pages, &c., attending.

Cran.

I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman,

That was sent to me from the council, pray’d me

To make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho!

Who waits there?

EnterKeeper.

Sure, you know me?

Keep.

Yes, my lord;

But yet I cannot help you.

Cran.

Why?

Keep.

Your Grace must wait till you be call’d for.

EnterDoctor Butts.

Cran.

So.

Butts.

[Aside.] This is a piece of malice. I am glad

I came this way so happily: the king

Shall understand it presently.

Cran.

[Aside.] ’Tis Butts,

The king’s physician. As he past 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-counsellor,

’Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures

Must be fulfill’d, and I attend with patience.

Enter, at a window above, theKingandButts.

Butts.

I’ll show your Grace the strangest sight,—

K. Hen.

What’s that, Butts?

Butts.

I think your highness saw this many a day.

K. Hen.

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.

K. Hen.

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 above.