Henry VIII by William Shakespeare
Act 2 - Scene 3
An ante-chamber of the QUEEN’S apartments.
Anne Bullen : Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches:
[p]His highness
having lived so long with her, and she
[p]So good a lady that no
tongue could ever
[p]Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
[p]She
never knew harm-doing: O, now, after
[p]So many courses of the sun
enthroned,
[p]Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
[p]To
leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
[p]'Tis sweet at first to
acquire,--after this process,
[p]To give her the avaunt! it is a
pity
[p]Would move a monster.
Old Lady : Hearts of most hard temper
[p]Melt and lament for her.
Anne Bullen : O, God's will! much better
[p]She ne'er had known pomp: though't be
temporal,
[p]Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
[p]It from the
bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
[p]As soul and body's severing.
Old Lady : Alas, poor lady!
[p]She's a stranger now again.
Anne Bullen : So much the more
[p]Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
[p]I swear, 'tis
better to be lowly born,
[p]And range with humble livers in
content,
[p]Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
[p]And wear a
golden sorrow.
Old Lady : Our content
[p]Is our best having.
Anne Bullen : By my troth and maidenhead,
[p]I would not be a queen.
Old Lady : Beshrew me, I would,
[p]And venture maidenhead for't; and so would
you,
[p]For all this spice of your hypocrisy:
[p]You, that have so
fair parts of woman on you,
[p]Have too a woman's heart; which ever
yet
[p]Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
[p]Which, to say sooth,
are blessings; and which gifts,
[p]Saving your mincing, the
capacity
[p]Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
[p]If you
might please to stretch it.
Anne Bullen : Nay, good troth.
Old Lady : Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen?
Anne Bullen : No, not for all the riches under heaven.
[p]Old as I am, to queen it:
but, I pray you,
[p]What think you of a duchess? have you limbs
[p]To
bear that load of title?
Anne Bullen : No, in truth.
Old Lady : Then you are weakly made: pluck off a little;
[p]I would not be a
young count in your way,
[p]For more than blushing comes to: if your
back
[p]Cannot vouchsafe this burthen,'tis too weak
[p]Ever to get a
boy.
Anne Bullen : How you do talk!
[p]I swear again, I would not be a queen
[p]For all
the world.
Old Lady : In faith, for little England
[p]You'ld venture an emballing: I
myself
[p]Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd
[p]No more
to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Lord Chamberlain : Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know
[p]The secret of your
conference?
Anne Bullen : My good lord,
[p]Not your demand; it values not your asking:
[p]Our
mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Lord Chamberlain : It was a gentle business, and becoming
[p]The action of good women:
there is hope
[p]All will be well.
Anne Bullen : Now, I pray God, amen!
Lord Chamberlain : You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings
[p]Follow such
creatures. That you may, fair lady,
[p]Perceive I speak sincerely, and
high note's
[p]Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's
majesty
[p]Commends his good opinion of you, and
[p]Does purpose
honour to you no less flowing
[p]Than Marchioness of Pembroke: to
which title
[p]A thousand pound a year, annual support,
[p]Out of his
grace he adds.
Anne Bullen : I do not know
[p]What kind of my obedience I should tender;
[p]More
than my all is nothing: nor my prayers
[p]Are not words duly hallow'd,
nor my wishes
[p]More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and
wishes
[p]Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,
[p]Vouchsafe to
speak my thanks and my obedience,
[p]As from a blushing handmaid, to
his highness;
[p]Whose health and royalty I pray for.
Lord Chamberlain : Lady,
[p]I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit
[p]The king hath
of you.
[p][Aside]
[p]I have perused her well;
[p]Beauty and honour in
her are so mingled
[p]That they have caught the king: and who knows
yet
[p]But from this lady may proceed a gem
[p]To lighten all this
isle? I'll to the king,
[p]And say I spoke with you.
Anne Bullen : My honour'd lord.
Old Lady : Why, this it is; see, see!
[p]I have been begging sixteen years in
court,
[p]Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could
[p]Come pat betwixt
too early and too late
[p]For any suit of pounds; and you, O
fate!
[p]A very fresh-fish here--fie, fie, fie upon
[p]This compell'd
fortune!--have your mouth fill'd up
[p]Before you open it.
Anne Bullen : This is strange to me.
Old Lady : How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no.
[p]There was a lady
once, 'tis an old story,
[p]That would not be a queen, that would she
not,
[p]For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it?
Anne Bullen : Come, you are pleasant.
Old Lady : With your theme, I could
[p]O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of
Pembroke!
[p]A thousand pounds a year for pure respect!
[p]No other
obligation! By my life,
[p]That promises moe thousands: honour's
train
[p]Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
[p]I know your
back will bear a duchess: say,
[p]Are you not stronger than you were?
Anne Bullen : Good lady,
[p]Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
[p]And
leave me out on't. Would I had no being,
[p]If this salute my blood a
jot: it faints me,
[p]To think what follows.
[p]The queen is
comfortless, and we forgetful
[p]In our long absence: pray, do not
deliver
[p]What here you've heard to her.
Old Lady : What do you think me?
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Next: Act 2 - Scene 4
