Act II, Scene iii
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|  ANNE. Not for that neither. Here's the pang that pinches: | |
| | His Highness having liv'd 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 t' 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 glist'ring 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 threepence 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 burden, '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'd venture an emballing. I myself | |
| | Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd | |
| | No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here? | |
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| | Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN | |
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| | 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 heav'nly blessings | |
| | Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, | |
| | Perceive I speak sincerely and high notes | |
| | Ta'en of your many virtues, the King's Majesty | |
| | Commends his good opinion of you to you, and | |
| | Does purpose honour to you no less flowing | |
| | Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which tide | |
| | 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 hallowed, 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 t' approve the fair conceit | |
| | 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 | |
| | To lighten all this isle?—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! | |
| | 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 y' have heard to her. | |
| | OLD LADY. What do you think me? | |
| | Exeunt | |
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