They go to exit but just before they do, a group of DIVINES come on and surround them, anxious for news.

ANDREWES. I will insist on the best scholars of the age, and poets.

REYNOLDS. Poets?

ANDREWES. For the odd felicitous phrase. I will summon John Donne. His Majesty has decided that…

They all exit.

Enter GEORGE.

JAMES. We will have committees, but of a kind I can control! Piles of committees, of them all, Puritans Anglicans, closet Catholics, religiosity in all its hues, piled high! And push and pull them, let piles of divines totter and sway! And do the work. And bind us all together with a Bible. Because bound we must be. Good. Good. Good. (Stands.) Now, let’s go to dinner and get them all drunk. (To GEORGE.) Come, George! A wager! Which kind of divine will we get into a woman’s dress first? Anglican or Puritan?

GEORGE. Neither, I fear.

JAMES. Pessimism, George! Pessimism-issy-miss, ban it! We will translate a Bible and transform England. Dinner dinner dinner!

They move to go off.

Enter ANNE, in her nightdress, clutching her coronation dress. She sinks to the floor.

JAMES stops. They stare at each other for a moment. He stumbles.

GEORGE, CECIL and PARROT rush to him.

CECIL. Your Majesty, are you ill?

JAMES. No no. A shadow. (Sudden anger.) Well, come on come on! Let’s stuff these bastards full of my food!

He storms away and exits.

CECIL and GEORGE look at each other.

CECIL. What is it? Can you tell me?

GEORGE. He’s fighting something in his head.

CECIL. In his head? How can you fight in your head?

GEORGE. He can.

CECIL. And the fight’s between…

GEORGE. Don’t you know that, My Lord? With all your spies and schemes and sophistication? It’s a war between two Englands.

They exit.

Scene Seven

The Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula in the Tower of London.

GUARD (offstage). His Majesty will enter the Chapel! His Majesty is not to be disturbed!

A moment.

Guard! To salute!

Enter JAMES. He has a flagon of wine. His shirt is hanging out. He carves a long, curving line across the stage and falls down. He rights the flagon just in time.

JAMES. The Tower of London. Buried you here. In a chapel. Hid you away under the floor. (Knocks on the floor.) Anne. Anne, who pulled you down? Who… who… (Passes out.)

Scene Eight

The unconscious JAMES lying on the stage.

Enter CROMWELL and SIMPKIN.

CROMWELL. On the hour!

SIMPKIN. Yes, My Lord.

CROMWELL. Reports of His Majesty. What he says, his mood, looks, sighs. On the hour!

SIMPKIN. Yes, My Lord.

They exit.

Enter LADY ROCHFORD, CELIA and JANE.

ANNE. Where is it?

ROCHFORD. With the midwives.

ANNE. What was it?

They stare at her, horrified.

A boy, yes? A boy.

They still cannot speak.

Don’t let him see it. Where did the midwives put it?

CELIA. In a bowl by the…