Me Too, Me Too!
Seven years too late, I’ve discovered the meme used by Edward III, Roger Mortimer, Hugh le Despenser, Queen Isabella of France and many others. Naturally, Anne Boleyn is not the type of girl to be left out, even if she’s a few years (or centuries) late to the party.
I am Anne Boleyn, Queen of England and Henry VIII’s first real wife, thank you very much.
I want a son to secure the succession and make sure that His Majesty’s reforms are continued. In fact, I may have an announcement to make on that score rather soon, but don’t tell anyone yet!
I wish I could see a certain Mistress Seymour’s face when Henry gets tired of her and turns her out, just like he did the summer before last with Mistress What’s-her-face — no, really, what was that girl’s name? I honestly can’t remember it. Pregnancy brain, of course (but don’t tell anyone yet!) I’ll have to get my sister-in-law to help me out again, though she’s a little skittish about that sort of thing recently.
I hate the Lady Mary. I’ve more than bent over backwards for the girl, but will she give me so much as a polite glance? The worst part is that I’ve been far more gracious towards her than her own father, but good luck getting her to admit that. Of course, my daughter clearly outranks her, still, it will be a relief once I have my son.
I miss Henry Percy, once in a while.
I fear war with the Holy Roman Emperor — I can hardly imagine a worse catastrophe for England, and for me.
I hear that a baby conceived during the full moon is more likely to be a boy. Interesting! In a purely hypothetical sense, of course.
I wonder what happened to Henry’s letters, I haven’t seen them in ages. Not that he’s asked about them or anything, but it will a relief to know where they are. They’re probably hidden in one of my old sleeves or something like that — you know how these things always turn up in the most unexpected places!
I regret nothing. I’m the Queen of England! What would you want me to change?
I am not a concubine. Do concubines marry kings and bear the rightful heirs to the throne of a country? They do not. Therefore, I am not a concubine. Finis.
I dance When my enemies die. Why not? They’d do the same for me.
I sing and also play. Henry likes to hear me sing my own verses, though I can’t quite remember the last time we did that.
I cry when I think of Henry and Mistress Seymour. Not that she means anything.
I am not always considered to be the real Queen of England, since my predecessor still has so many loyal adherents. But as she doesn’t seem to be in the best of health lately, I could be the sole queen six months from now. That would be nice.
I made Cromwell take a step back with the monasteries. He really seemed to be under the impression that they’re his and Henry’s private piggy bank, but Henry will understand the need for schools when I talk it out with him. I wish he’d stop by.
I write constantly. Do you know how much of my day is spent answering petitions?
I confuse Lady Wingfields. There are several. Sometimes I’ll see a letter I wrote and even I can’t figure out which one I meant.
I need this baby to be a son. I might as well admit it.
I should finally get Chapuys to acknowledge me.
I start speaking French with Henry when we need some privacy. Of course, we’re not the only ones who speak French at court, but it does help. Mistress Seymour’s French is hardly up to following us, but what can one expect from someone who was never able to go abroad?
I finish shirts for the poor, who are very grateful, and for Henry, who wants to know why I don’t do black and white Spanish needlework on them like a certain predecessor of mine.
I tag anyone who wants to be! I ask only that you post the link if you do try the meme.