The Six Wives of Henry VIII1970

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer:
My lord Earl.

Thomas Cromwell:
Not you, Archbishop. Stand silent a little.

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer:
My Lord.

Thomas Cromwell:
For a learned man, you're mighty slow in your wits, you've done some shameful things in your life and likely to do more before you die, so how is it I find such comfort in you?

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer:
Comfort I never have any to give.

Thomas Cromwell:
No! I fancy when that King in there, that arrogant bag of diseased guts and crazed pride, at last comes to die, he will only go in peace if he has your hand in his.

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer:
What comfort can you need?

Thomas Cromwell:
I've seen the warrants ready and the pen dipped to sign them. Few could have been favoured with such clear notice of their deaths. Will you pay a debt for me, Archbishop?

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer:
You have credit with me.

Thomas Cromwell:
Stay, Tom, until the Queen leaves the King tonight. Whatever happens, there will be a lady in dire need of comfort.

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer:
Comfort again and my hands so empty... What will happen?

Thomas Cromwell:
The more I know of that Lady of Cleves, the more I wonder.