He entered the presence-chamber, and calling Cromwell to him, said, "My lord, if it were not to satisfy the world and my realm, I would not do what I must do this day for any earthly thing." Then one of the officers of the household informed him that the queen was ready. He advanced towards her chamber door, but had to wait {417}several minutes before she appeared, which made him very angry. Who can blame the poor woman for her tardiness? she would have been excusable if she had refused to come at all. At last Henry sent one of his lords to bring her. She was dressed in a robe of cloth of gold, thickly embroidered in large flowers of oriental pearls. The skirt was cut, as before, round without a train, and at her neck and waist were costly jewels. Her hair fell luxuriantly over her shoulders, and on her head was a coronet of diamonds, with a few sprigs of rosemary. She walked modestly forward, between the Earls of Overstein and Essex, with a sad, demure expression, and on approaching the spot where the king stood made three low obeisances. She was followed by her ladies. The Archbishop of Canterbury and Cranmer performed the marriage ceremony, the Earl of Overstein gave her away, and on her wedding-ring was engraved this sentence "God send me weel to keepe." On the 4th of February the king and queen went up the Thames in grand state to their palace of Westminster. Henry kept up an outward show of attention to his bride, but she knew not the art of pleasing, felt no sympathy with his tastes, and could not gain his affection. She knew this, but could not help it. Several times she sent for Cromwell, hoping with his advice to be more successful, but he positively refused to talk privately with her. He had reasons of his own for doing so. On the 1st of May a company of the gallant knights at court, all dressed in white velvet with rich ornaments, had a grand tournament in honor of the recent marriage, and this was the last time Henry and Anne of Cleves ever appeared together in public. Anne studied the English language industriously, and tried in every possible manner to please her lord, but by {418}the end of five months she was convinced that it was hopeless. There was a low-born, unprincipled creature at court, named Sir Thomas Wriothesley, who would have done or said anything to gain favor with his sovereign, and he kept constantly lamenting over Henry's position, and how hard it was for him to be bound to a wife whom he could not love. In this way he prepared the way for a divorce, and Henry was only too ready to avail himself of any excuse. Now his sensitive conscience began to trouble him again. This time it was on the score of religion; he could not bear to think of having a Lutheran wife. No wonder poor Anne lost patience, and in a moment of pique, told him that, "if she had not been compelled to marry him she might have fulfilled her engagement with another to whom she had promised her hand."