Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth CenturyFullerton, Georgiana
History
Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century
Fullerton, Georgiana
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction
Pretty Milicent left us to seek for Mistress Bess, whom she had charge
of that day; and now our eyes were so intent on watching the spectacle
before us that even Polly for a while was silent. The queen did sit at
table with a store of noblemen waiting on her; and a more goodly sight
and a rarer one is not to be seen than a store of men famed for so
much bravery and wit and arts of state, that none have been found to
surpass them in any age, who be so loyal to a queen and so reverent to
a woman as these to this lady, who doth wear the crown of so great a
kingdom, so that all the world doth hold it in respect, and her hand
sought by so many great princes. But all this time I could not
perceive that she so much as once did look toward my Lady Surrey, or
spoke one single word to her or to my Lady Lumley, or little Bess, and
took very scanty notice also of my Lady Berkeley, his grace's sister,
who was a lady of so great and haughty a stomach, and of speech so
eloquent and ready, that I have heard the queen did say, that albeit
Lady Berkeley bent her knee when she made obeisance to her, she could
very well see she bent not her will to love or serve her, and that she
liked not such as have a man's heart in a woman's body. 'Tis said that
parity breedeth not affection, or affinity respect, of which saying
this opinion of the queen's should seem a notable example. But to see
my Lady Surrey so treated in her own husband's father's house worked
in me such effects of choler, mingled with sadness, that I could
scarce restrain my tears. Methought there was a greater nobleness and
a more true queenly greatness in her meek and withal dignified
endurance of these slights who was the subject, than in the sovereign
who did so insult one who least of all did deserve it. What the queen
did, others took pattern from; and neither my Lord Burleigh, nor my
Lord Leicester, or Sir Christopher Hatton, or young Lord Essex (albeit
my lord's own friend ), or little Sir John Harrington, her majesty's
godson, did so much as speak one civil word or show her the least
attention; but she did bear herself with so much sweetness, and,
though I knew her heart was full almost to bursting, kept up so brave
an appearance that none should see it except such as had their own
hearts wounded through hers, that some were present that day who since
have told me that, for promise of future distinction and true nobility
of aspect and behavior, they had not in their whole lives known one to
be compared with the young Countess of Surrey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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