But Elizabeth was yours. Watch her as she grows; she’s yours. She’s a Tudor! Get yourself a son off of that sweet, pale girl if you can – and hope that it will live! But Elizabeth shall reign *after* you. Yes! Elizabeth – child of Anne the Whore and Henry the Blood-Stained Lecher – shall be Queen!
So be it. Only what I take to my grave, you take to yours. And think of this, Henry: Elizabeth shall be a greater Queen than any King of yours. She shall rule a greater England than you could ever have built! Yes – my Elizabeth shall be Queen. And my blood will have been well spent!
For six years, this year, and this, and this, and this, I did not love him. And then I did. Then I was his. I can count the days I was his in hundreds.
The days we bedded. Married. Were Happy. Bore Elizabeth. Hated. Lusted. Bore a dead child… which condemned me… to death. In all one thousand days. Just a thousand. strange. And of those thousand, one when we were both in love, only one, when our loves met and overlapped and were both mine and his. And when I no longer hated him, he began to hate me. Except for that one day.
You come here to make sure whether there was truly adultery, because that would touch your manhood or your pride. And even so, my heart and my eyes are glad of you. Fool of all women that I am, I’m glad of you here. Go, then. Keep your pride of manhood, you know about me now.
Once I told you any children we had would not be bastards. You promised marriage and the crown. Now you try to dance out of your promise. Well, I won’t have it! We are man and wife together. King and Queen. I keep that. Take it from me as best you can.
Before you go, perhaps you should hear one thing. I lied to you. I said “I love you”, but I lied. I was untrue. Untrue with many.
It is true. I was unfaithful to you with all of them. With half your court. With soldiers of your guard, with grooms, with stablehands. Look for the rest of your life at every man that ever knew me and wonder if I didn’t find him a better man than you!
You make love as you eat, with a great deal of noise and no subtlety!
Doesn’t do that well. Not as well as I’ve known it done. But it’s the one arm I want – for some God-knows-what reason. You do everything badly – everything awkwardly – and I love it the way you do it.
She’s on her way to Northumberland. As far away as I could send her, since we don’t own Scotland. She has the face of a simpering sheep. And the manners. But not the morals. I don’t want her near me.
I’ve heard what your courtiers say and I’ve seen what you are. You’re spoiled and vengeful and bloody. Your poetry is sour and your music is worse. You make love as you eat, with a good deal of noise and no subtlety.
Yes, I’ve been told it’s not safe for any of us to say no to our King. That put on, kindly, hail-fellow-well-met of yours. My father’s house will be pulled down, and Northumberland’s too, they tell me. Well, pull them down, Your Majesty, you are what I said.
Speak out! Well, I’ll say it frankly as they do in France. In England we make muddy mysteries of such things as if they were crimes. We don’t come out of a rainbow at 17 and there’s no use pretending we do. You may ask me whatever you like.
Even in carnal matters, My Lord Cardinal? We have had the King in the bosom of this family for some years. My sister Mary is with child by him and of no further use. I shall not go the way of my sister. You would be wise to anticipate my answer and spare His Majesty any annoyance. I will not be a mistress of the King even with the blessing of a prince of the Church!
I’m still young. I love dancing and new clothes and gifts. And power. Power is as exciting as love, I discover.
Would you sacrifice the child of our love to get a silly little harlot brought back to court?
You do what you wish and call the deed mine. I hate you. I hate your desire and mine!
