John Heywood read this in the countenance of his royal master, and
resolved to take advantage of it. He wished to divert the attention
of the king, and to draw it away from the beautiful, captivating
women who were juggling him with their bewitching charms.
"Yes, the queen lives!" said he, joyfully, "and God be praised for
it! For how tedious and dull it would be at this court had we not
our fair queen, who is as wise as Methuselah, and innocent and good
as a new-born babe! Do you not, Lady Jane, say with me, God be
praised that Queen Catharine is living?"
"I say so with you!" said Jane, with ill-concealed vexation.
"And you, King Henry, do you not say it too?"
"Of course, fool!"
"Ah, why am I not King Henry?" sighed John Heywood. "King, I envy
you, not your crown, or your royal mantle; not your attendants or
your money. I envy you only this, that you can say, 'God be praised
that my wife is still alive!' while I never know but one phrase,'God
have pity, my wife is still alive!' Ah, it is very seldom, king,
that I have heard a married man speak otherwise! You are in that
too, as in all things else, an exception, King Henry; and your
people have never loved you more warmly and purely than when you
say, 'I thank God that my consort is alive!' Believe me, you are
perhaps the only man at your court who speaks after this manner,
however ready they may be to be your parrots, and re-echo what the
lord high-priest says.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193