LETTERS OF HENRY VIII. TO ANNE BOLEYN.
Reading edition
Circ. 1534.
Source.—Henry VIII. Lettres à Anne Boleyn. Crapelet, Paris.
Letter XII.
There came to me in the night the most afflicting news possible. For I have reason to grieve upon three accounts. First, because I heard of the sickness of my mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, whose health I desire as much as my own, and the half of whose sickness I would willingly bear to have her cured. Secondly, because I fear I shall suffer yet longer that tedious absence, which has hitherto given me all possible uneasiness, and, as far as I can judge, is like to give me more. I pray God he would deliver me from so troublesome a tormentor. The third reason is, because the Physician, in whom I trust most, is absent at present, when he could do me the greatest pleasure. For I should hope by him and his means, to obtain one of my principal joys in this world, that is my mistress cured; however, in default of him, I send you the second, and the only one left, praying God that he may soon make you well, and then I shall love Him more than ever. I beseech you to be governed by his advices with relation to your illness; by your doing which, I hope shortly to see you again, which will be to me a greater cordial than all precious stones in the world. Written by the Secretary who is, and always will be,
Letter XIII.
THE SWEATING SICKNESS.
Since your last letters, mine own darling, Walter Welsh, Master Brown, John Case, John Cork the pothecary be fallen of the sweat in this house, and, thanked be God, all well recovered, so that as yet the plague is not fully ceased here; but I trust shortly it shall. By the mercy of God the rest of us yet be well, and I trust shall pass it, either not to have it, or at the least as easily as the rest have done.... As touching your abode at Herne, do therein as best shall like you; for you know best what air does best with you; but I would it were come thereto (if it pleased God), that neither of us need care for that; for I ensure you I think it long. Suche is fallen sick of the sweat; and therefore I send you this bearer, because I think you long to hear tidings from us, as we do likewise from you. Written with the hand de votre seul.
H. Rex.