Then you lost The view of earthly glory. Men might say, Till this time pomp was single, but now married To one above itself. Each following day Became the next day’s master, till the last Made former wonders its. Today the French, All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English; and tomorrow, they Made Britain India: every man that stood Showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubins, all gilt. The madams too, Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting. Now this masque Was cried incomparable; and th’ ensuing night Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them: him in eye, Still him in praise; and being present both, ’Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns— For so they phrase ’em—by their heralds challenged The noble spirits to arms, they did perform Beyond thought’s compass, that former fabulous story, Being now seen possible enough, got credit, That Bevis was believed.

Norfolk Monologue from Henry VIII

Rehearse Norfolk's monologue