GARDINER. Pole has the Plantagenet face, But not the force made them our mightiest kings. Fine eyes--but melancholy, irresolute-- A fine beard, Bonner, a very full fine beard. But a weak mouth, an indeterminate--ha? BONNER. Well, a weak mouth, perchance. GARDINER. And not like thine To gorge a heretic whole, roasted or raw. BONNER. I'd do my best, my Lord; but yet the Legate Is here as Pope and Master of the Church, And if he go not with you-- GARDINER. Tut, Master Bishop, Our bashful Legate, saw'st not how he flush'd? Touch him upon his old heretical talk, He'll burn a diocese to prove his orthodoxy. And let him call me truckler. In those times, Thou knowest we had to dodge, or duck, or die; I kept my head for use of Holy Church; And see you, we shall have to dodge again, And let the Pope trample our rights, and plunge His foreign fist into our island Church To plump the leaner pouch of Italy. For a time, for a time. Why? that these statutes may be put in force, And that his fan may thoroughly purge his floor. BONNER. So then you hold the Pope-- GARDINER. I hold the Pope! What do I hold him? what do I hold the Pope? Come, come, the morsel stuck--this Cardinal's fault-- I have gulpt it down. I am wholly for the Pope, Utterly and altogether for the Pope, The Eternal Peter of the changeless chair, Crown'd slave of slaves, and mitred king of kings, God upon earth! what more? what would you have? Hence, let's be gone. _Enter_ USHER. USHER. Well that you be not gone, My Lord. The Queen, most wroth at first with you, Is now content to grant you full forgiveness, So that you crave full pardon of the Legate. I am sent to fetch you. GARDINER. Doth Pole yield, sir, ha! Did you hear 'em? were you by? USHER. I cannot tell you, His bearing is so courtly-delicate; And yet methinks he falters: their two Graces Do so dear-cousin and royal-cousin him, So press on him the duty which as Legate He owes himself, and with such royal smiles--