Speeches (Lines) for Anne Bullen in "Henry VIII"
Total: 18
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# |
Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context) |
Speech text |
1 |
I,4,691 |
Was he mad, sir?
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2 |
I,4,718 |
You are a merry gamester,
My Lord Sands.
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3 |
I,4,723 |
You cannot show me.
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4 |
II,3,1201 |
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.
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5 |
II,3,1214 |
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.
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6 |
II,3,1221 |
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.
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7 |
II,3,1229 |
By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
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8 |
II,3,1241 |
Nay, good troth.
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9 |
II,3,1243 |
No, not for all the riches under heaven.
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?
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10 |
II,3,1248 |
No, in truth.
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11 |
II,3,1254 |
How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.
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12 |
II,3,1264 |
My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
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13 |
II,3,1270 |
Now, I pray God, amen!
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14 |
II,3,1280 |
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.
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15 |
II,3,1300 |
My honour'd lord.
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16 |
II,3,1309 |
This is strange to me.
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17 |
II,3,1314 |
Come, you are pleasant.
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18 |
II,3,1323 |
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.
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