m! How
Lady Jane, the maiden otherwise so haughty and so chaste, does wish to
ensnare him with her bright eyes as with a net! How bewitchingly does
the Duchess of Richmond, that fair and voluptuous woman, laugh at the
king's merry jests and double entendres!

Poor king! whose corpulency forbids him to dance as he once had done
with so much pleasure and so much dexterity! Poor king! whose age
forbids him to sing as once he had done to the delight both of the court
and himself!

But there are yet, however, pleasant, precious, joyous hours, when the
man revives some little in the king; when even youth once more again
awakes within him, and smiles in a few dear, blessed pleasures. The king
still has at least eyes to perceive beauty, and a heart to feel it.

How beautiful Lady Jane is, this white lily with the dark, star-like
eyes! How beautiful Lady Richmond, this full-blown red rose with the
pearl-white teeth!

And they both smile at him; and when the king swears he loves them, they
bashfully cast down their eyes and sigh.

"Do you sigh, Jane, because you love me?"

"Oh, sire, you mock me. It would be a sin for me to love you, for Queen
Catharine is living."

"Yes, she is living!" muttered the king; and his brow darkened; and for
a moment the smile disappeared from his lips.

Lady Jane had committed a mistake. She had reminded the king of his wife
when it was yet too soon to ask for her death.

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, th