ACT II
SCENE III An ante-chamber of the QUEEN'S apartments.


 [Enter ANNE and an Old Lady]

ANNE Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches:
 His highness having lived so long with her, and she
 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 enthroned,
 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
 Would move a monster.

Old Lady Hearts of most hard temper
 Melt and lament for her.

ANNE O, God's will! much better
 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.

Old Lady Alas, poor lady!
 She's a stranger now again.

ANNE So much the more
 Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
 I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
 And range with humble livers in content,
 Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
 And wear a golden sorrow.

Old Lady Our content
 Is our best having.

ANNE By my troth and maidenhead,
 I would not be a queen.

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,
 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
 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?

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
 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,
 For more than blushing comes to: if your back
 Cannot vouchsafe this burthen,'tis too weak
 Ever to get a boy.

ANNE                   How you do talk!
 I swear again, I would not be a queen
 For all the world.

Old Lady                   In faith, for little England
 You'ld venture an emballing: I myself
 Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd
 No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

 [Enter Chamberlain]

Chamberlain Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know
 The secret of your conference?

ANNE My good lord,
 Not your demand; it values not your asking:
 Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

Chamberlain 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!

Chamberlain 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
 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,
 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
 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,
 As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness;
 Whose health and royalty I pray for.

Chamberlain Lady,
 I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit
 The king hath of you.

 [Aside]

  I have perused 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
 To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king,
 And say I spoke with you.

 [Exit Chamberlain]

ANNE My honour'd lord.

Old Lady Why, this it is; see, see!
 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!
 A very fresh-fish here--fie, fie, fie upon
 This compell'd fortune!--have your mouth fill'd up
 Before you open it.

ANNE This is strange to me.

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?

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!
 No other obligation! By my life,
 That promises moe thousands: honour's train
 Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
 I know your back will bear a duchess: say,
 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,
 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
 What here you've heard to her.

Old Lady What do you think me?

 [Exeunt]




 KING HENRY VIII


ACT II