payment page
Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone. My state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable
And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun. (2.1.120–23)
Just before Buckingham is about to be taken down the river to the site of his execution, Sir Nicholas Vaux, his escort, asks him if he’d like the river barge decorated to reflect his status as duke. Buckingham responds with these words, telling Vaux such ornamentation isn’t necessary. Though he was able to rise to the position of a duke as well as Lord High Constable, Buckingham acknowledges that he has now fallen politically as well as socially. Stripped of his wealth as well as his title and rank, he now returns to being “poor Edward Bohun.” In his tone of calm lament, Buckingham accepts his fate.
Here’s the pang that pinches:
His Highness having lived so long with her, and she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonor of her—by my life,
She never knew harm-doing!—O, now, after
So many courses of the sun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
To leave a thousandfold more bitter than
’Tis sweet at first t’ acquire—after this process,
To give her the avaunt! It is a pity
Would move a monster. (2.3.1–11)
Anne Bullen addresses these lines to her attendant, an Old Lady. Anne, who serves as a lady-in-waiting for Queen Katherine, laments her mistress’s fall. She is particularly concerned by how difficult such a descent must be for a woman who has spent “so many courses of the sun enthroned,” and who is “still growing in a majesty and pomp.” Learning the lesson that every rise comes with a fall, Anne is understandably reluctant about the idea of becoming queen. This reluctance may be read as a covert reference to the fact that, historically, Anne was brought low and executed about three years after marrying Henry.
What’s this? “To th’ Pope”?
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to ’s Holiness. Nay then, farewell!
I have touched the highest point of all my greatness,
And from that full meridian of my glory
I haste now to my setting. I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening
And no man see me more. (3.2.272–79)
Soon after Henry intercepts evidence of Wolsey’s crimes, he confronts the cardinal and shows him the incriminating papers. As soon as Wolsey reads the documents, he realizes that he’s finished and concerns himself with his coming downfall. With a touch of melancholy poeticism, this ambitious man recognizes that he’s now “touched the highest point of all [his] greatness,” and the only path forward is down: “From that full meridian of my glory / I haste now to my setting.” Significantly, though Wolsey accepts his fate, his language here retains a hint of the very ambition that has brought him low. Note how he likens himself to the sun that has reached its “meridian” and now begins its descent toward the horizon. This symbolism is traditionally reserved for the king. Wolsey’s self-comparison to the sun therefore reflects the loftiness of his political ambition.
