Great nobles walked upon each side of
him, making him lean upon them, and so steady his steps. Behind him
followed the court physicians and some servants.
Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace,
and heard the door close behind him. Around him stood those who had
come with him.
Before him, at a little distance, reclined a very large and very
fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and a stern expression. His large
head was very gray; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his
face, like a frame, were gray also. His clothing was of rich stuff,
but old, and slightly frayed in places. One of his swollen legs had
a pillow under it, and was wrapped in bandages. There was silence now;
and there was no head there but was bent in reverence, except this
man's. This stern-countenanced invalid was the dread Henry VIII. He
said- and his face grew gentle as he began to speak:
'How now, my lord Edward, my prince? Hast been minded to cozen me,
the good king thy father, who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with
a sorry jest?'
Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed faculties would let
him, to the beginning of this speech; but when the words 'me the
good king' fell upon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped as
instantly upon his knees as if a shot had brought him there. Lifting
up his hands, he exclaimed:
'Thou the king? Then am I undone indeed!'
This speech seemed to stun the king. His eyes wandered from face
to face aimlessly, then rested, bewildered, upon the boy before him.
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