An Antechamber in the QUEEN’S Apartments. | |
| |
Enter ANNE BULLEN and an Old Lady. | |
| Anne. Not for that neither: here’s the pang that pinches: | |
| His highness having liv’d so long with her, and she | 4 |
| So good a lady that no tongue could ever | |
| Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, | |
| She never knew harm-doing; O! now, after | |
| So many courses of the sun enthron’d, | 8 |
| Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which | |
| To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than | |
| ’Tis sweet at first to acquire, after this process | |
| To give her the avaunt! it is a pity | 12 |
| Would move a monster. | |
| Old Lady. Hearts of most hard temper | |
| Melt and lament for her. | |
| Anne. O! God’s will; much better | 16 |
| She ne’er had known pomp: though ’t be temporal, | |
| Yet, if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorce | |
| It from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance panging | |
| As soul and body’s severing. | 20 |
| Old Lady. Alas! poor lady, | |
| She’s a stranger now again. | |
| Anne. So much the more | |
| Must pity drop upon her. Verily, | 24 |
| I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born, | |
| And range with humble livers in content, | |
| Than to be perk’d up in a glist’ring grief | |
| And wear a golden sorrow. | 28 |
| Old Lady. Our content | |
| Is our best having. | |
| Anne. By my troth and maidenhead | |
| I would not be a queen. | 32 |
| Old Lady. Beshrew me, I would, | |
| And venture maidenhead for’t; and so would you, | |
| For all this spice of your hypocrisy. | |
| You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, | 36 |
| Have too a woman’s heart; which ever yet | |
| Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty: | |
| Which, to say sooth, are blessings, and which gifts— | |
| Saving your mincing—the capacity | 40 |
| Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, | |
| If you might please to stretch it. | |
| Anne. Nay, good troth. | |
| Old Lady. Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen? | 44 |
| Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. | |
| Old Lady. ’Tis strange: a three-pence bow’d would hire me, | |
| Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you, | |
| What think you of a duchess? have you limbs | 48 |
| To bear that load of title? | |
| Anne. No, in truth. | |
| Old Lady. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little: | |
| I would not be a young count in your way, | 52 |
| For more than blushing comes to: if your back | |
| Cannot vouchsafe this burden, ’tis too weak | |
| Ever to get a boy. | |
| Anne. How you do talk | 56 |
| I swear again, I would not be a queen | |
| For all the world. | |
| Old Lady. In faith, for little England | |
| You’d venture an emballing: I myself | 60 |
| Would for Carnarvonshire, although there ’long’d | |
| No more to the crown but that. Lo! who comes here? | |
| |
Enter the Lord Chamberlain. | |
| Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were’t worth to know | 64 |
| The secret of your conference? | |
| Anne. My good lord, | |
| Not your demand; it values not your asking: | |
| Our mistress’ sorrows we were pitying. | 68 |
| Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming | |
| The action of good women: there is hope | |
| All will be well. | |
| Anne. Now, I pray God, amen! | 72 |
| Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings | |
| Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, | |
| Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note’s | |
| Ta’en of your many virtues, the king’s majesty | 76 |
| Commends his good opinion of you, and | |
| Does purpose honour to you no less flowing | |
| Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title | |
| A thousand pound a year, annual support, | 80 |
| Out of his grace he adds. | |
| Anne. I do not know | |
| What kind of my obedience I should tender; | |
| More than my all is nothing, nor my prayers | 84 |
| Are not words duly hallow’d, nor my wishes | |
| More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes | |
| Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship, | |
| Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, | 88 |
| As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness, | |
| Whose health and royalty I pray for. | |
| Cham. Lady, | |
| I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit | 92 |
| The king hath of you. [Aside.] I have perus’d her well; | |
| Beauty and honour in her are so mingled | |
| That they have caught the king; and who knows yet | |
| But from this lady may proceed a gem | 96 |
| To lighten all this isle? [To her.] I’ll to the king, | |
| And say, I spoke with you. | |
| Anne. My honour’d lord. [Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN. | |
| Old Lady. Why, this it is; see, see! | 100 |
| I have been begging sixteen years in court, | |
| Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could | |
| Come pat betwixt too early and too late; | |
| For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate! | 104 |
| A very fresh-fish here,—fie, fie, upon | |
| This compell’d fortune!—have your mouth fill’d up | |
| Before you open it. | |
| Anne. This is strange to me. | 108 |
| Old Lady. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. | |
| There was a lady once,—’tis an old story,— | |
| That would not be a queen, that would she not, | |
| For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it? | 112 |
| Anne. Come, you are pleasant. | |
| Old Lady. With your theme I could | |
| O’ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke! | |
| A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect! | 116 |
| No other obligation! By my life | |
| That promises more thousands: honour’s train | |
| Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time | |
| I know your back will bear a duchess: say, | 120 |
| Are you not stronger than you were? | |
| Anne. Good lady, | |
| Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, | |
| And leave me out on’t. Would I had no being, | 124 |
| If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me, | |
| To think what follows. | |
| The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful | |
| In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver | 128 |
| What here you’ve heard to her. | |
| Old Lady. What do you think me? [Exeunt. | |
