CROMWELL. I know your kind. The ‘get away with as little as you can’ Englishman. You’d have the country at dinner all day. Where would we be then?

SLOOP (low). Happier?

CROMWELL. What did you say?

SLOOP. Nothing nothing, sir.

CROMWELL. And on.

He paces, muttering phrases to himself.

SLOOP (aside). Now it’s work every hour and through the night with him. And he’s got a finger in everything. He’s an MP, he’s the King’s manager in Parliament, he’s a member of the King’s Council, he’s Receiver General, he’s Master of the King’s Jewel House, he’s Master of the Court of Wards, and to top it all he’s the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

CROMWELL (stops). Read that back.

SIMPKIN. ‘Where by divers sundry old authentic histories and chronicles, it is manifestly declared…’

HENRY enters at pace. SIMPKIN and SLOOP kneel, CROMWELL bows.

CROMWELL/SIMPKIN/SLOOP. Your Majesty.

HENRY (beaming). The Queen is well.

CROMWELL. Thanks be to Almighty God.

HENRY. The child is healthy. The Princess Elizabeth. She has eyes like mine!

CROMWELL. She will adorn the future.

HENRY. And the Queen is well and going about the Court.

CROMWELL. The country will be overjoyed.

HENRY. ‘Joy’ is the word she herself has used. She says she is joyful and healthy.

CROMWELL. And you are both still young.

HENRY stops beaming. A sticky moment.

HENRY. Is that the Act?

CROMWELL. In draft, Sire.

HENRY. When will it be finished?

CROMWELL. Tonight, Sire, and Parliament will pass it tomorrow.

HENRY. Let me see.

The kneeling SIMPKIN holds out the paper to HENRY, who snatches it from him. He stares at the paper for a moment.

‘Where by divers sundry old authentic histories…’ Legal language, like falling off a horse into brambles. Cut me through this.

CROMWELL. As discussed with Your Majesty, the Act forbids all appeals to the Pope in Rome on religious or other matters. It makes Your Majesty the final legal authority in England, Wales and all your possessions.

HENRY. Well, good. (A moment.) And how do you argue that? CROMWELL. By…

HENRY. It must be argued, truly and justly. All the world must see the truth and justice.

CROMWELL (aside). He’s nervous. When he’s like this the tactic is: get him to the dinner table quick as possible. (To HENRY.) The Act argues, rightly, that England is an Empire. And the English Crown is an Imperial Crown.

HENRY. I am an Emperor?

CROMWELL. Yes, Your Majesty. The line of the English Crown goes back to Brutus and the Fall of Troy.

HENRY. Really? Who says so?

CROMWELL. Your historians, Your Majesty.

HENRY. Well paid, no doubt. So, since I am an Emperor…

CROMWELL. … Your command over your Empire is absolute.

HENRY. You are certain of this, Cromwell?

CROMWELL. It’s historical fact, Sire. Truth is power.

HENRY. The other way round, I think: power is truth.