HENRY. The trick will be to make it known that he supports our marrying.

ANNE. My Lord…

HENRY. The more it is known amongst the Courts of Europe, the more pressure there will be on the Pope…

ANNE. My Lord…

HENRY. The Holy See is weak, alliances go both ways, he will have to accept a marriage…

ANNE. Henry.

HENRY. What? (Looks at her.) Oh. Anne?

ANNE. Seven years is long enough to have waited, don’t you think?

HENRY. Yes. I have longed…

ANNE. I too.

HENRY. Why… why now?

ANNE. Why not?

HENRY. Little cat.

ANNE. Big bull.

HENRY. Cat and bull? (Laughs.)

ANNE. True love.

HENRY. Wife to me.

They touch. They are sliding into an embrace. They break away, still holding hands.

ANNE. Ladies and Gentlemen. There will now be a fifteen-minute interval.

End of Act One.

ACT TWO

Scene One

Musicians playing. Enter JAMES wearing ANNE’s coronation dress, hand in hand with GEORGE, who is not in drag. They dance as man and woman, beautifully, arms extended, whirling figures. The music stops, they embrace and kiss passionately.

GEORGE (aside). Well, it’s something different. And if you’re going to advance, you find you have to swim in strange waters. Not unpleasant, really.

He returns to the passionate kiss.

Enter CECIL, carrying a pile of books and papers. He is followed by PARROT. SERVANTS enter and hold back.

CECIL (shocked). Your Majesty…

JAMES still has GEORGE in his arms.

JAMES. What?

CECIL. The bishops and the divines are assembling.

JAMES. They are doing what?

CECIL. Assembling.

JAMES. What is that, some lewd practice? (To GEORGE.) An assemblage of bishops and divines, assembling dissembled robes with secret hands.

He gooses GEORGE – who yelps – and lets him go.

Oh, Steamy. We always knew the fun and kissing would have to stop. Now the politicking begins. Steamy, be discreet.

GEORGE (low, but loud enough to be heard). Yes, my love.

CECIL (aside). Thank the good Lord for that.

JAMES (to SERVANTS). Get me out of this whore’s dress!

SERVANTS rush forward and begin to help him out of the dress.

I will sit upon a chair, the velvet chair, I think – yes yes yes. You can win an argument by the way you place yourself in a room. And no benches! They’ll stand. Let rheumatic knees cut theology short.

CECIL gestures to two SERVANTS, who exit, running.

CECIL. I am sure the bishops and divines will comply happily with Your Majesty’s wishes.

JAMES. I’m not. Not not, oh no. Why? I am attempting to reform the Church of England. (This while skirts are being pulled up over his head.) To settle the religious argy-bargy, tupping and tipping and nonsense, once and for all. For the quiet and peace of this slimy, fractious, devious realm. (Head appears.) There will be knocked heads, Baron Cecil! Knocked heads.

CECIL. As long as there are not cut ones. Ha!

JAMES does not laugh. Glares. Nasty moment.