A Room in the Queen's Apartments.
 Enter ANNE BULLEN and an OLD LADY.

Anne Bullen	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 thousandfold 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 Bullen							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 Bullen								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 perked up in a glist'ring grief
	And wear a golden sorrow.

Old Lady							Our content
	Is our best having.

Anne Bullen						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 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.

Old Lady	'Tis strange; a threepence bowed 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 Bullen								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 Bullen						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 longed
	No more to th'crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

                         Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

Chamberlain	Good morrow ladies; what were't worth to know
	The secret of your conference?

Anne Bullen									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 Bullen						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 Bullen							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 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.[To ANNE.] I'll to the king,
	And say I spoke with you.
											[Exit.
Anne Bullen							My honoured 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, upon
	This compelled fortune, have your mouth filled up
	Before you open it.

Anne Bullen							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 Bullen	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 more 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 Bullen									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.
