“Well, sire, since you compel me to speak, I will tell you that, far from making humble apologies, his violence against you has redoubled. I have just received a tract he has recently published. In it I find many passages where, in speaking of you, he employs the most abusive epithets and expressions. For instance, he repeatedly declares that your majesty ‘is a fool, an ass, and a madman,’ that you are ‘coarser than a hog, and more stupid than a jackass.’ He speaks with equal scurrility of our Holy Father the Pope, addressing him, in terms of the most unparalleled effrontery, this pretended warning, which is of course intended simply as an insult: ‘My petit Paul, my petit Pope, my young ass, walk carefully--it is very slippery--you may fall and break your legs. You will surely hurt yourself, and then people will say, “What the devil does this mean? The petit Pope has hurt himself.”’ Further on, I find this ridiculous comparison, which could only emanate from a vile and shameless pen: ‘The ass knows that he is an ass, the stone knows that it is a stone, but these asses of popes are unable to recognize themselves as asses.’ He concludes at length with these words, which fill the measure of his impiety and degradation: ‘If I were ruler of an empire, I would make a bundle of the Pope and his cardinals, and throw them altogether into that little pond, the Tuscan Sea. I pledge my word that such a bath would restore their health, and I pledge Jesus Christ as my security!’” “What fearful blasphemy!” cried Henry. “Could a Christian possibly be supposed to utter such absurd, blasphemous vulgarities? I trow not! This pretended ‘reformer’ of the ‘discipline and abuses of the church’ seems to possess any other than an evangelical character. No one can doubt his divine mission and his Christian charity! A man who employs arguments like these is too vile and too contemptible to be again mentioned in my presence. Let me hear no more of this intolerable apostate! Proceed now with business.” “Sire,” then continued the cardinal, presenting a list to the king, “here are the names of several candidates I wish you to consider for the purpose of appointing a treasurer of the exchequer. Thomas More has already filled, most honorably, a number of offices of public trust, and is also a man of equal ability and integrity. I recommend him to your majesty for this office.” “I approve your selection most unhesitatingly,” replied the king. “I am extremely fond of More, and perfectly satisfied with the manner in which he has performed his official duties heretofore. You will so inform him from me. What next?” “I would also petition your majesty that Cromwell be confirmed as intendant-general of the monasteries latterly transformed into colleges.” “Who is this Cromwell?” inquired Henry. “I have no recollection of him.”