WOLSEY. Your Majesty, it grieves me to report a most heinous, offensive matter, sadly implicating the Lady Anne. This book…

HENRY. Return it.

WOLSEY. What?

HENRY. Return the book to Lady Anne.

WOLSEY. Sire, it is heretical…

HENRY. No, Your Grace. From what I hear it is a book for all kings and for me to read.

CROMWELL smiles.

HENRY holds out his hand to ANNE. She takes it and stands.

So. Give her the book.

WOLSEY. Your Majesty, I protest.

HENRY. Protest? What do you protest? That you have not had enough dinner? Very well, make up for it at breakfast.

HENRY frowns at WOLSEY. Sniggers amongst the COURTIERS. CROMWELL and ANNE exchange a glance.

All but WOLSEY exit.

WOLSEY (aside). Where did that anger come from? Suddenly. Ruin in his eyes. Suddenly… I feel all my greatness flowing from me. Summer, you’re in the sumptuous robes of power, then… the blink of an eye and it’s winter, and you’re naked in the frost. No, I won’t have it. I won’t slip away, lamenting the whims of princes! I won’t go quietly, meditating on man’s rise and fall, whingeing about fate and wanton boys, pulling off the wings of flies. I’ll not fall like Lucifer, never to hope again. I’ll fight. (A moment.) Fight. (A moment.) Fight.

Enter CROMWELL with SLOOP and SIMPKIN.

CROMWELL. His Majesty requests that you do not return to York House tonight. There is a barge waiting to take you to Richmond.

WOLSEY. Cromwell, what…

CROMWELL. It’s nothing, Your Grace. His Majesty merely wishes me to search your home for papers.

WOLSEY. What papers?

CROMWELL. Secret letters between you and the Pope. Frustrating His Majesty’s wishes in the matter of his divorce.

WOLSEY. There are no such letters!

CROMWELL. Then I won’t find them, will I.

They all exit.

Scene Sixteen

Enter HENRY and ANNE. SERVANTS lurk. Musicians play.

ANNE (aside). In Calais. Two years later.

HENRY and ANNE rush to each other and embrace. He whirls her around. SERVANTS give them wine goblets. They raise them.

The King of France!

HENRY. The King of France!

ANNE. The King of France!

HENRY. What is the matter with his mouth?

ANNE. His mouth is perfect, he is a king.

HENRY. It’s all skew-whiff.

ANNE. It is perhaps the French breeding of cousins with cousins?

HENRY. But the spitting!

ANNE. He was friendly.

HENRY. Yes!

ANNE. It was a triumph.

HENRY. When you held private conference with him, what did he say?

ANNE. That he wished to see us married.

HENRY. He said that?

ANNE. He has alliances with the Pope he cannot defy, but will do everything to help us.

HENRY. He said that. Through the spitting.

ANNE. Yes.

HENRY. Francis was courteous to you?

ANNE. He treated me… royally.

HENRY. Royally.

ANNE. Yes.

HENRY. As he should.

ANNE. My Lord…

HENRY. His support will be implicit, though, not open…

ANNE. My Lord…