Your Grace's Displeasure, and my Imprisonment, are Things so strange
unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether
ignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willing me to confess a Truth, and
so obtain your Favour) by such an one, whom you know to be mine
ancient professed Enemy, I no sooner received this Message by him,
than I rightly conceived your Meaning; and if, as you say, confessing
a Truth indeed may procure my Safety, I shall with all Willingness and
Duty perform your Command.
But let not your Grace ever imagine, that your poor Wife will ever be
brought to acknowledge a Fault, where not so much as a Thought thereof
preceded. And to speak a Truth, never Prince had Wife more Loyal in
all Duty, and in all true Affection, than you have ever found in Ann
Boleyn: with which Name and Place I could willingly have contented my
self, if God and your Grace's Pleasure had been so pleased. Neither
did I at any time so far forget my self in my Exaltation, or received
Queenship, but that I always looked for such an Alteration as now I
find; for the Ground of my Preferment being on no surer Foundation
than your Grace's Fancy, the least Alteration I knew was fit and
sufficient to draw that Fancy to some other [Object. [2]] You have
chosen me, from a low Estate, to be your Queen and Companion, far
beyond my Desert or Desire. If then you found me worthy of such
Honour, good your Grace let not any light Fancy, or bad Counsel of
mine Enemies, withdraw your Princely Favour from me; neither let that
Stain, that unworthy Stain, of a Disloyal Heart towards your good
Grace, ever cast so foul a Blot on your most Dutiful Wife, and the
Infant-Princess your Daughter. Try me, good King, but let me have a
lawful Tryal, and let not my sworn Enemies sit as my Accusers and
Judges; Yea let me receive an open Tryal, for my Truth shall fear no
open Shame; then shall you see either mine Innocence cleared, your
Suspicion and Conscience satisfied, the Ignominy and Slander of the
World stopped, or my Guilt openly declared. So that whatsoever God or
you may determine of me, your Grace may be freed from an open Censure,
and mine Offence being so lawfully proved, your Grace is at liberty,
both before God and Man, not only to Execute worthy Punishment on me
as an unlawful Wife, but to follow your Affection, already settled on
that Party, for whose sake I am now as I am, whose Name I could some
good while since have pointed unto, your Grace being not ignorant of
my Suspicion therein.
But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my Death,
but an Infamous Slander must bring you the enjoying of your desired
Happiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardon your great Sin
therein, and likewise mine Enemies, the Instruments thereof; and that
he will not call you to a strict Account for your unprincely and cruel
Usage of me, at his general Judgment Seat, where both you and my self
must shortly appear, and in whose Judgment I doubt not (whatsoever the
World may think of me) mine Innocence shall be openly known, and
sufficiently cleared.
My last and only Request shall be, that my self may only bear the
Burthen of your Grace's Displeasure, and that it may not touch the
innocent Souls of those poor Gentlemen, who (as I understand) are
likewise in strait Imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have found
Favour in your Sight, if ever the Name of Ann Boleyn hath been
pleasing in your Ears, then let me obtain this Request, and I will so
leave to trouble your Grace any further, with mine earnest Prayers to
the Trinity to have your Grace in his good Keeping, and to direct you
in all your Actions. From my doleful Prison in the Tower, this sixth
of May;
Your most Loyal,
And ever Faithful Wife,
Ann Boleyn.
[Footnote 1:
When you see a Neighbour in Tears, and hear him lament the Absence of
his Son, the Hazards of his Voyage into some remote Part of the World,
or the Loss of his Estate; keep upon your Guard, for fear lest some
false Ideas that may rise upon these Occasions, surprise you into a
Mistake, as if this Man were really miserable, upon the Account of
these outward Accidents. But be sure to distinguish wisely, and tell
your self immediately, that the Thing which really afflicts this
Person is not really the Accident it self, (for other People, under
his Circumstances, are not equally afflicted with it) but merely the
Opinion which he hath formed to himself concerning this Accident.
Notwithstanding all which, you may be allowed, as far as Expressions
and outward Behaviour go, to comply with him; and if Occasion require,
to bear a part in his Sighs, and Tears too; but then you must be sure
to take care, that this Compliance does not infect your Mind, nor
betray you to an inward and real Sorrow, upon any such
Account.
Epictetus his Morals, with Simplicius his Comment.