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.