Old L. 'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd would hire me,[345]
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 L. Then you are weakly made: pluck off a little;[346] 40
I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to: if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.
Anne. How you do talk![347]
I swear again, I would not be a queen 45
For all the world.
Old L. In faith, for little England
You'ld venture an emballing: I myself[348]
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd[349]
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know 50
The secret of your conference?
Anne. My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope 55
All will be well.
Anne. Now, I pray God, amen!