SHRIEVE.We’ll christen you, sirrah.—Bring him forward.
MORE.How now! what tumults make you?
FAULKNER.The azured heavens protect my noble Lord Chancellor!
MORE.What fellow’s this?
SHRIEVE.A ruffian, my lord, that hath set half the city in an uproar.
FAULKNER.My lord—
SHRIEVE. There was a fray in Paternoster-row, and because they would not be parted, the street was choked up with carts.
FAULKNER.My noble lord, Paniar Allies throat was open.
MORE.Sirrah, hold your peace.
FAULKNER. I’ll prove the street was not choked, but is as well as ever it was since it was a street.
SHRIEVE.This fellow was a principal broacher of the broil.
FAULKNER. ’Sblood, I broached none; it was broached and half run out, before I had a lick at it.
SHRIEVE.And would be brought before no justice but your honor.
FAULKNER.I am hailed, my noble lord.
MORE.No ear to choose for every trivial noisebut mine, and in so full a time? Away!You wrong me, Master Shrieve: dispose of himAt your own pleasure; send the knave to Newgate.
FAULKNER.To Newgate! ’sblood, Sir Thomas More, I appeal, I appeal fromNewgate to any of the two worshipful Counters.
MORE.Fellow, whose man are you, that are thus lusty?
FAULKNER.My name’s Jack Faulkner; I serve, next under God and my prince,Master Morris, secretary to my Lord of Winchester.
MORE.A fellow of your hair is very fitTo be a secretary’s follower!
FAULKNER. I hope so, my lord. The fray was between the Bishops’ men of Ely and Winchester; and I could not in honor but part them. I thought it stood not with my reputation and degree to come to my questions and answers before a city justice: I knew I should to the pot.
MORE.Thou hast been there, it seems, too late already.
FAULKNER. I know your honor is wise and so forth; and I desire to be only cathecized or examined by you, my noble Lord Chancellor.
MORE.Sirrah, sirrah, you are a busy dangerous ruffian.
FAULKNER.Ruffian!
MORE.How long have you worn this hair?
FAULKNER.I have worn this hair ever since I was born.
MORE.You know that’s not my question, but how longHath this shag fleece hung dangling on they head?
FAULKNER. How long, my lord? why, sometimes thus long, sometimes lower, as the Fates and humors please.
MORE.So quick, sir, with me, ha? I see, good fellow,Thou lovest plain dealing. Sirrah, tell me now,When were you last at barbers? how long timeHave you upon your head worn this shag hair?
FAULKNER. My lord, Jack Faulkner tells no Aesops fables: troth, I was not at barbers this three years; I have not been cut not will not be cut, upon a foolish vow, which, as the Destinies shall direct, I am sworn to keep.
MORE.When comes that vow out?
FAULKNER.Why, when the humors are purged, not this three years.
MORE.Vows are recorded in the court of Heaven,For they are holy acts. Young man, I charge theeAnd do advise thee, start not from that vow:And, for I will be sure thou shalt not shrieve,Besides, because it is an odious sightTo see a man thus hairy, thou shalt lieIn Newgate till thy vow and thy three yearsBe full expired.—Away with him!
FAULKNER.My lord—
MORE.Cut off this fleece, and lie there but a month.
FAULKNER.I’ll not lose a hair to be Lord Chancellor of Europe.
MORE.To Newgate, then. Sirrah, great sins are bredIn all that body where there’s a foul head.Away with him.
[Exeunt all except Randall.]
[Enter Surrey, Erasmus, and Attendants.]
SURREY.Now, great Erasmus, you approach the presenceOf a most worthy learned gentleman:This little isle holds not a truer friendUnto the arts; nor doth his greatness addA feigned flourish to his worthy parts;He’s great in study; that’s the statist’s grace,That gains more reverence than the outward place.
ERASMUS.Report, my lord, hath crossed the narrow seas,And to the several parts of Christendom,Hath borne the fame of your Lord Chancellor:I long to see him, whom with loving thoughtsI in my study oft have visited.Is that Sir Thomas More?
SURREY.It is, Erasmus:Now shall you view the honorablest scholar,The most religious politician,The worthiest counsellor that tends our state.That study is the general watch of England;In it the prince’s safety, and the peaceThat shines upon our commonwealth, are forgedBy loyal industry.
ERASMUS.I doubt him notTo be as near the life of excellenceAs you proclaim him, when his meanest servantsAre of some weight: you saw, my lord, his porterGive entertainment to us at the gateIn Latin good phrase; what’s the master, then,When such good parts shine in his meanest men?
SURREY.His Lordship hath some weighty business;For, see, yet he takes no notice of us.
ERASMUS.I think twere best I did my duty to himIn a short Latin speech.—Qui in celiberima patria natus est ett gloriosa, plus habet negotii utin lucem veniat quam qui—
RANDALL.I prithee, good Erasmus, be covered. I have forsworn speaking ofLatin, else, as I am true counsellor, I’d tickle you with a speech.Nay, sit, Erasmus;—sit, good my Lord of Surrey. I’ll make my ladycome to you anon, if she will, and give you entertainment.
ERASMUS.Is this Sir Thomas More?
SURREY.Oh good Erasmus, you must conceive his vain:He’s ever furnished with these conceits.
RANDALL. Yes, faith, my learned poet doth not lie for that matter: I am neither more nor less than merry Sir Thomas always. Wilt sup with me? by God, I love a parlous wise fellow that smells of a politician better than a long progress.
[Enter Sir Thomas More.]
SURREY.We are deluded; this is not his lordship.
RANDALL. I pray you, Erasmus, how long will the Holland cheese in your country keep without maggots?
MORE.Fool, painted barbarism, retire thyselfInto thy first creation!
[Exit Randall.]
Thus you see,My loving learned friends, how far respectWaits often on the ceremonious trainOf base illiterate wealth, whilst men of schools,Shrouded in poverty, are counted fools.Pardon, thou reverent German, I have mixedSo slight a jest to the fair entertainmentOf thy most worthy self; for know, Erasmus,Mirth wrinkles up my face, and I still crave,When that forsakes me I may hug my grave.
ERASMUS.Your honor’s merry humor is best physicUnto your able body; for we learnWhere melancholy chokes the passagesOf blood and breath, the erected spirit stillLengthens our days with sportful exercise:Study should be the saddest time of life.The rest a sport exempt from thought of strife.
MORE.Erasmus preacheth gospel against physic,My noble poet.
SURREY.Oh, my Lord, you tax meIn that word poet of much idleness:It is a study that makes poor our fate;Poets were ever thought unfit for state.
MORE.O, give not up fair poesy, sweet lord,To such contempt! That I may speak my heart,It is the sweetest heraldry of art,That sets a difference ’tween the tough sharp hollyAnd tender bay tree.
SURREY.Yet, my lord,It is become the very logic numberTo all mechanic sciences.
MORE.Why, I’ll show the reason:This is no age for poets; they should singTo the loud canon heroica facta;Qui faciunt reges heroica carmina laudant:And, as great subjects of their pen decay,Even so unphysicked they do melt away.
[Enter Master Morris.]
Come, will your lordship in?—My dear Erasmus—I’ll hear you, Master Morris, presently.—My lord, I make you master of my house:We’ll banquet here with fresh and staid delights,The Muses music here shall cheer our sprites;The cates must be but mean where scholars sit,For they’re made all with courses of neat wit.
[Exeunt Surrey, Erasmus, and Attendants.]
How now, Master Morris?
MORRIS.I am a suitor to your lordship in behalf of a servant of mine.
MORE.The fellow with long hair? good Master Morris,Come to me three years hence, and then I’ll hear you.
MORRIS. I understand your honor: but the foolish knave has submitted himself to the mercy of a barber, and is without, ready to make a new vow before your lordship, hereafter to leave cavil.
MORE.Nay, then, let’s talk with him; pray, call him in.
[Enter Faulkner and Officers.]
FAULKNER.Bless your honor! a new man, my lord
MORE.Why, sure, this is not he.
FAULKNER. And your lordship will, the barber shall give you a sample of my head: I am he in faith, my lord; I am ipse.
MORE.Why, now thy face is like an honest man’s:Thou hast played well at this new cut, and won.
FAULKNER.No, my lord; lost all that ever God sent me.
MORE.God sent thee into the world as thou art now,With a short hair. How quickly are three yearsRun out of Newgate!
FAULKNER. I think so, my lord; for there was but a hair’s length between my going thither and so long time.
MORE.Because I see some grace in thee, go free.—Discharge him, fellows.—Farewell, Master Morris.—Thy head is for thy shoulders now more fit;Thou hast less hair upon it, but more wit.
[Exit.]
MORRIS.Did not I tell thee always of these locks?
FAULKNER. And the locks were on again, all the goldsmiths in Cheapside should not pick them open. ’Sheart, if my hair stand not on end when I look for my face in a glass, I am a polecat. Here’s a lousy jest! but, if I notch not that rogue Tom barber, that makes me look thus like a Brownist, hang me! I’ll be worse to the nitticall knave than ten tooth drawings. Here’s a head, with a pox!
MORRIS.What ails thou? art thou mad now?
FAULKNER. Mad now! nails, if loss of hair cannot mad a man, what can? I am deposed, my crown is taken from me. More had been better a scoured Moreditch than a notched me thus: does he begin sheepshearing with Jack Faulkner?
MORRIS.Nay, and you feed this vein, sir, fare you well.
FAULKNER.Why, farewell, frost. I’ll go hang myself out for the Poll Head.Make a Saracen of Jack?
MORRIS.Thou desperate knave! for that I see the devilWholly gets hold of thee—
FAULKNER.The devil’s a damned rascal.
MORRIS.I charge thee, wait on me no more; no moreCall me thy master.
FAULKNER.Why, then, a word, Master Morris.
MORRIS.I’ll hear no words, sir; fare you well.
FAULKNER.’Sblood, farewell.
MORRIS.Why dost thou follow me?
FAULKNER. Because I’m an ass. Do you set your shavers upon me, and then cast me off? must I condole? have the Fates played the fools? am I their cut? now the poor sconce is taken, must Jack march with bag and baggage?
[Weeps.]
MORRIS.You coxcomb!
FAULKNER.Nay, you ha’ poached me; you ha’ given me a hair; it’s here, hear.
MORRIS.Away, you kind ass! come, sir, dry your eyes:Keep you old place, and mend these fooleries.
FAULKNER. I care not to be turned off, and ’twere a ladder, so it be in my humor, or the Fates beckon to me. Nay, pray, sir, if the Destinies spin me a fine thread, Faulkner flies another pitch; and to avoid the headache hereafter, before I’ll be a hairmonger, I’ll be a whoremonger.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter a Messenger to More.]
MESSENGER.My honorable lord, the Mayor of London,Accompanied with his lady and her train,Are coming hither, and are hard at hand,To feast with you: a servant’s come before,To tell your lordship of there near approach.
MORE.Why, this is cheerful news: friends go and come:Reverend Erasmus, who delicious wordsExpress the very soul and life of wit,Newly took sad leave of me, and with tearsTroubled the silver channel of the Thames,Which, glad of such a burden, proudly swelledAnd on her bosom bore him toward the sea:He’s gone to Rotterdam; peace go with him!He left me heavy when he went from hence;But this recomforts me; the kind Lord Mayor,His brethren aldermen, with their fair wives,Will feast this night with us: why, so it should be;More’s merry heart lives by good company.—Good gentlemen, be careful; give great chargeOur diet be made dainty for the taste;For, of all people that the earth affords,The Londoners fare richest at their boards.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Sir Thomas More, Master Roper, and Servingmen setting stools.]
MORE.Come, my good fellows, stir, be diligent;Sloth is an idle fellow, leave him now;The time requires your expeditious service.Place me here stools, to set the ladies on.—Son Roper, you have given order for the banquet?
ROPER.I have, my lord, and every thing is ready.
[Enter his Lady.]
MORE.Oh, welcome, wife! give you directionHow women should be placed; you know it best.For my Lord Mayor, his brethren, and the rest,Let me alone; men best can order men.
LADY.I warrant ye, my lord, all shall be well.There’s one without that stays to speak with ye,And bade me tell ye that he is a player.
MORE.A player, wife!—One of ye bid him come in.
[Exit one.]
Nay, stir there, fellows; fie, ye are too slow!See that your lights be in a readiness:The banquet shall be here.—Gods me, madame,Leave my Lady Mayoress! both of us from the board!And my son Roper too! what may our guests think?
LADY.My lord, they are risen, and sitting by the fire.
MORE.Why, yet go you and keep them company;It is not meet we should be absent both.
[Exit Lady.]
[Enter Player.]
Welcome, good friend; what is you will with me?
PLAYER.My lord, my fellows and myselfAre come to tender ye our willing service,So please you to command us.
MORE.What, for a play, you mean?Whom do ye serve?
PLAYER.My Lord Cardinal’s grace.
MORE.My Lord Cardinal’s players! now, trust me, welcome;You happen hither in a lucky time,To pleasure me, and benefit yourselves.The Mayor of London and some aldermen,His lady and their wives, are my kind guestsThis night at supper: now, to have a playBefore the banquet, will be excellent.—How think you, son Roper?
ROPER.’Twill do well, my lord,And be right pleasing pastime to your guests.
MORE.I prithee, tell me, what plays have ye?
PLAYER.Diverse, my lord: The Cradle of Security,His nail o’ the head, Impatient Poverty,The play of Four Peas, Dives and Lazarus,Lusty Juventus, and The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom.
MORE.The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom! that, my lads;I’ll none but that; the theme is very good,And may maintain a liberal argument:To marry wit to wisdom, asks some cunning;Many have wit, that may come short of wisdom.We’ll see how Master poet plays his part,And whether wit or wisdom grace his art.—Go, make him drink, and all his fellows too.—How many are ye?
PLAYER.Four men and a boy, sir.
MORE.But one boy? then I see,There’s but few women in the play.
PLAYER.Three, my lord; Dame Science, Lady Vanity,And Wisdom she herself.
MORE.And one boy play them all? by our Lady, he’s laden.Well, my good fellow, get ye straight together,And make ye ready with what haste ye may.—Proud their supper gainst the play be done,Else shall we stay our guests here over long.—Make haste, I pray ye.
PLAYER.We will, my lord.
[Exit Servant and Player.]
MORE.Where are the waits? go, big them play,To spend the time a while.
[Enter Lady.]
How now, madame?
LADY.My lord, th’ are coming hither.
MORE.Th’ are welcome. Wife, I’ll tell ye one thing;One sport is somewhat mended; we shall haveA play tonight, The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom,And acted by my good Lord Cardinal’s players;How like ye that, wife?
LADY.My lord, I like it well.See, they are coming.
[The waits plays; enter Lord Mayor, so many Aldermen as may, the Lady Mayoress in scarlet, with other Ladies and Sir Thomas More’s Daughters; Servants carrying lighted torches by them.]
MORE.Once again, welcome, welcome, my good Lord Mayor,And brethren all, for once I was your brother,And so I am still in heart: it is not stateThat can our love from London separate.True, upstart fools, by sudden fortune tried,Regard their former mates with naught but pride.But they that cast an eye still whence they came,Know how they rose, and how to use the same.
LORD MAYOR.My lord, you set a gloss on London’s fame,And make it happy ever by your name.Needs must we say, when we remember More,’Twas he that drove rebellion from our doorWith grave discretions mild and gentle breath,Oh, how our city is by you renowned,And with your virtues our endeavors crowned!
MORE.No more, my good Lord Mayor: but thanks to all,That on so short a summons you would comeTo visit him that holds your kindness dear.—Madame, you are not merry with my Lady MayoressAnd these fair ladies; pray ye, seat them all:—And here, my lord, let me appoint your place;—The rest to seat themselves:—nay, I’ll weary ye;You will not long in haste to visit me.
LADY.Good madame, sit; in sooth, you shall sit here.
LADY MAYORESS.Good madame, pardon me; it may not be.
LADY.In troth, I’ll have it so: I’ll sit here by ye.—Good ladies, sit.—More stools here, ho!
LADY MAYORESS.It is your favour, madame, makes me thusPresume above my merit.
LADY.When we come to you,Then shall you rule us as we rule you here.Now must I tell ye, madame, we have a play,To welcome ye withal; how good so ere,That know not I; my lord will have it so.
MORE.Wife, hope the best; I am sure they’ll do their best:They that would better, comes not at their feast.My good Lord Cardinal’s players, I thank them for it,Play us a play, to lengthen out your welcome:They say it is The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom,A theme of some import, how ere it prove;But, if art fail, we’ll inch it out with love.—
[Enter a Servant.]
What, are they ready?
SERVANT.My lord, one of the players craves to speak with you.
MORE.With me! where is he?
[Enter Inclination, the Vice, ready.]
INCLINATION.Here, my lord.
MORE.How now! what’s the matter?
INCLINATION. We would desire your honor but to stay a little; one of my fellows is but run to Oagles for a long beard for young Wit, and he’ll be here presently.
MORE. A long beard for young Wit! why, man, he may be without a beard till he come to marriage, for wit goes not all by the hair. When comes Wit in?
INCLINATION.In the second scene, next to the Prologue, my lord.
MORE. Why, play on till that scene come, and by that time Wit’s beard will be grown, or else the fellow returned with it. And what part playest thou?
INCLINATION.Inclination the Vice, my lord.
MORE. Gramercies, now I may take the vice if I list: and wherefore hast thou that bridle in thy hand?
INCLINATION.I must be bridled anon, my lord.
MORE. And thou beest not saddled too, it makes no matter, for then Wit’s inclination may gallop so fast, that he will outstrip Wisdom, and fall to folly.
INCLINATION. Indeed, so he does to Lady Vanity; but we have no folly in our play.
MORE. Then there’s no wit in ’t, I’ll be sworn: folly waits on wit, as the shadow on the body, and where wit is ripest there folly still is readiest. But begin, I prithee: we’ll rather allow a beardless Wit than Wit all beard to have no brain.
INCLINATION. Nay, he has his apparel on too, my lord, and therefore he is the readier to enter.
MORE.Then, good Inclination, begin at a venter.—
[Exit Inclination.]
My Lord Mayor,Wit lacks a beard, or else they would begin:I’d lend him mine, but that it is too thin.Silence, they come.
[The trumpet sounds; enter the Prologue.]
PROLOGUE.Now, for as much as in these latter days,Throughout the whole world in every land,Vice doth increase, and virtue decays,Iniquity having the upper hand;We therefore intend, good gentle audience,A pretty short interlude to play at this present,Desiring your leave and quiet silence,To show the same, as is meet and expedient,It is called The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom,A matter right pithy and pleasing to hear,Whereof in brief we will show the whole sum;But I must be gone, for Wit doth appear.
[Exit. Enter Wit ruffling, and Inclination the Vice.]
WIT.In an arbor green, asleep whereas I lay,The birds sang sweetly in the midst of the day,I dreamed fast of mirth and play,—In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure,Methought I walked still to and fro,And from her company I could not go;But when I waked, it was not so,—In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.Therefore my heart is surely plight,Of her alone to have a sight,Which is my joy and heart’s delight,—In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
MORE. Mark ye, my lord, this is Wit without a beard: what will he be by that time he comes to the commodity of a beard?
INCLINATION.Oh, sir, the ground is the better on which she doth go;For she will make better cheer with a little she can get,Than many a one can with a great banquet of meat.
WIT.And is her name Wisdom?
INCLINATION.I, sir, a wife most fitFor you, my good master, my dainty sweet Wit.
WIT.To be in her company my heart it is set:Therefore I prithee to let us begone;For unto Wisdom Wit hath inclination.
INCLINATION.Oh, sir, she will come her self even anon;For I told her before where we would stand.And then she said she would beck us with her hand.—Back with these boys and saucy great knaves!
[Flourishing a dagger.]
What, stand ye here so big in your braves?My dagger about your coxcombs shall walk,If I may but so much as hear ye chat or talk.
WIT.But will she take pains to come for us hither?
INCLINATION.I warrant ye; therefore you must be familiar with her;When she commeth in place,You must her embraceSomewhat handsomely,Least she think it danger,Because you are a stranger,To come in your company.
WIT.I warrant thee, Inclination, I will be busy:Oh, how Wit longs to be in Wisdom’s company!
[Enter Lady Vanity singing, and beckoning with her hand.]
VANITY.Come hither, come hither, come hither, come:Such cheer as I have, thou shalt have some.
MORE.This is Lady Vanity, I’ll hold my life:—Beware, good Wit, you take not her to wife.
INCLINATION.What, unknown honesty? a word in your ear.
[She offers to depart.]
You shall not be gone as yet, I swear:Here’s none but friends, you need not to fray;This young gentleman loves ye, therefore you must stay.
WIT.I trust in me she will think no danger,For I love well the company of fair women;And though to you I am a stranger,Yet Wit may pleasure you now and then.
VANITY.Who, you? nay, you are such a holy man,That to touch on you dare not be bold;I think you would not kiss a young woman,If one would give ye twenty pound in gold.
WIT.Yes, in good sadness, lady, that I would:I could find in my heart to kiss you in your smock.
VANITY.My back is broad enough to bear that mock;For it hath been told me many a timeThat you would be seen in no such company as mine.
WIT.Not Wit in the company of Lady Wisdom?Oh Jove, for what do I hither come?
INCLINATION.Sir, she did this nothing else but to proveWhether a little thing would you moveTo be angry and fret:What, and if one said so?Let such trifling matters goAnd with a kind kiss come out of her debt.—
Is Luggins come yet with the beard?
[Enter another Player.]
PLAYER.No, faith, he is not come: alas, what shall we do?
INCLINATION. Forsooth, we can go no further till our fellow Luggins come; for he plays Good Council, and now he should enter, to admonish Wit that this is Lady Vanity, and not Lady Wisdom.
MORE. Nay, and it be no more but so, ye shall not tarry at a stand for that; we’ll not have our play marred for lack of a little good council: till your fellow come, I’ll give him the best council that I can.—Pardon me, my Lord Mayor; I love to be merry.—
Oh…Wit, thou art now on the bow hand,And blindly in thine own opinion dost stand.I tell thee, this naughty lewd InclinationDoes lead thee amiss in a very strange fashion:This is not Wisdom, but Lady Vanity;Therefore list to Good Council, and be ruled by me.
INCLINATION.In troth, my lord, it is as right to Lugginses part as can be.—Speak,Wit.
MORE.Nay, we will not have our audience disappointed, if I can help it.
WIT.Art thou Good Council, and will tell me so?Wouldst thou have Wit from Lady Wisdom to go?Thou art some deceiver, I tell thee verily,In saying that this is Lady Vanity.
MORE.Wit, judge not things by the outward show;The eye oft mistakes, right well you do know:Good Council assures thee upon his honesty,That this is not Wisdom, but Lady Vanity.
[Enter Luggins with the beard.]
INCLINATION.Oh, my lord, he is come; now we shall go forward.
MORE.Art thou come? well, fellow, I have hoped to save thine honesty alittle. Now, if thou canst give Wit any better council than I havedone, spare not: there I leave him to they mercy.But by this time, I am sure, our banquet’s ready:My lord and ladies, we will taste that first,And then they shall begin the play again,Which through the fellow’s absence, and by me,Instead of helping, hath been hindered.—Prepare against we come.—Lights there, I say!—Thus fools oft times do help to mar the play.
[Exeunt all but players.]
WIT.Fie, fellow Luggins, you serve us handsomely; do ye not, think ye?
LUGGINS. Why, Oagle was not within, and his wife would not let me have the beard; and, by my troth, I ran so fast that I sweat again.
INCLINATION. Do ye hear, fellows? would not my lord make a rare player? oh, he would uphold a company beyond all hope, better than Mason among the king’s players! Did ye mark how extemprically he fell to the matter, and spake Lugginses part almost as it is in the very book set down?
WIT. Peace; do ye know what ye say? my lord a player! let us not meddle with any such matters: yet I may be a little proud that my lord hath answered me in my part. But come, let us go, and be ready to begin the play again.
LUGGINS.I, that’s the best, for now we lack nothing.
[Enter a Servingman.]
MAN.Where be these players?
ALL.Here, sir.
MAN.My lord is sent for to the court,And all the guests do after supper part;And, for he will not trouble you again,By me for your reward a sends 8 angels,With many thanks. But sup before you go:It is his will you should be fairly entreated:Follow, I pray ye.
WIT.This, Luggins, is your negligence;Wanting Wit’s beard brought things into dislike;For otherwise the play had been all seen,Where now some curious citizen disgraced it,And discommending it, all is dismissed.
VICE. Fore God, a says true. But hear ye, sirs: 8 angels, ha! my lord would never give 8 angels more or less for 12d; other it should be 3l, 5l, or ten li.; there’s 20s wanting, sure.
WIT.Twenty to one, tis so. I have a trick: my lord comes; stand aside.
[Enter More, with Attendants with Purse and Mace.]
MORE.In haste to counsel! what’s the business now,That all so late his highness sends for me?—What seekst thou, fellow?
WIT. Nay, nothing: your lordship sent 8 angels by your man, and I have lost two of them in the rishes.
MORE. Wit, look to that:—8 angels! I did send them ten.—Who gave it them?
MAN.I, my lord; I had no more about me;But by and by they shall rescue the rest.
MORE.Well, Wit, twas wisely done; thou playest Wit well indeed,Not to be thus deceived of thy right.—Am I a man, by office truly ordainedEqually to decide true right his own,And shall I have deceivers in my house?Then what avails my bounty, when such servantsDeceive the poor of what the Master gives?Go on, and pull his coat over his ears:There are too many such.—Give them their right.—Wit, let thy fellows thank thee: twas well done;Thou now deservest to match with Lady Wisdom.
[Exit More with Attendants.]
VICE. God a mercy, Wit!—Sir, you had a master Sir Thomas More more; but now we shall have more.
LUGGINS. God bless him! I would there were more of his mind! a loves our quality; and yet he’s a learned man, and knows what the world is.
CLOWN. Well, a kind man, and more loving than many other: but I think we ha’ met with the first….
LUGGINS. First served his man that had our angels; and he may chance dine with Duke Humphrey tomorrow, being turned away today. Come, let’s go.
CLOWN. And many such rewards would make us all ride, and horse us with the best nags in Smithfield.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter the Earls of Shrewsbury, Surrey, Bishop of Rochester, and other Lords; severally, doing courtesy to each other; Clerk of the Council waiting bareheaded.]
SURREY.Good morrow to my Lord of Shrewsbury.
SHREWSBURY.The like unto the honoured Earl of Surrey.Yond comes my Lord of Rochester.
ROCHESTER.Good morrow, my good lords.
SURREY.Clerk of the Council, what time is’t of day?
CLERK.Past eight of clock, my lord.
SHREWSBURY.I wonder that my good Lord ChancellorDoth stay so long, considering there’s mattersOf high importance to be scanned upon.
SURREY.Clerk of the Council, certify his lordshipThe lords expect him here.
ROCHESTER.It shall not need;Yond comes his lordship.
[Enter Sir Thomas More, with Purse and Mace borne before him.]
MORE.Good morrow to this fair assembly.Come, my good lords, let’s sit. Oh serious square!
[They sit.]
Upon this little board is daily scannedThe health and preservation of the land;We the physicians that effect this good,Now by choice diet, anon by letting blood;Our toil and careful watching brings the kingIn league with slumbers, to which peace doth sing.—Avoid the room there!—What business, lords, today?
SHREWSBURY.This, my good lord;About the entertainment of the emperorGainst the perfidious French into our pay.
SURREY.My lords, as tis the custom in this placeThe youngest should speak first, so, if I chanceIn this case to speak youngly, pardon me.I will agree, France now hath her full strength,As having new recovered the pale bloodWhich war sluiced forth; and I consent to this,That the conjunction of our English forcesWith arms of Germany may soon bringThis prize of conquest in. But, then, my lords,As in the moral hunting twixt the lionAnd other beasts, force joined with greedFrighted the weaker sharers from their parts;So, if the empire’s sovereign chance to putHis plea of partnership into war’s court,Swords should decide the difference, and our bloodIn private tears lament his entertainment.
SHREWSBURY.To doubt the worst is still the wise man’s shield,That arms him safely: but the world knows this,The emperor is a man of royal faith;His love unto our sovereign brings him downFrom his imperial seat, to march in payUnder our English flag, and wear the cross,Like some high order, on his manly breast;Thus serving, he’s not master of himself,But, like a colonel commanding other,Is by the general over-awed himself.
ROCHESTER.Yet, my good lord—
SHREWSBURY.Let me conclude my speech.As subjects share no portion in the conquestOf their true sovereign, other than the meritThat from the sovereign guerdons the true subject;So the good emperor, in a friendly leagueOf amity with England, will not soilHis honor with the theft of English spoil.
MORE.There is no question but this entertainmentWill be most honorable, most commodious.I have oft heard good captains wish to haveRich soldiers to attend them, such as would fightBoth for their lives and livings; such a oneIs the good emperor: I would to God,We had ten thousand of such able men!Hah, then there would appear no court, no city,But, where the wars were, they would pay themselves.Then, to prevent in French wars England’s loss,Let German flags wave with our English cross.
[Enter Sir Thomas Palmer.]
PALMER.My lords, his majesty hath sent by meThese articles enclosed, first to be viewed,And then to be subscribed to: I tender themIn that due reverence which befits this place.
[With great reverence.]
MORE.Subscribe these articles! stay, let us pause;Our conscience first shall parley with our laws.—My Lord of Rochester, view you the paper.
ROCHESTER.Subscribe to these! now, good Sir Thomas Palmer,Beseech the king that he will pardon me:My heart will check my hand whilst I do write;Subscribing so, I were an hypocrite.
PALMER.Do you refuse it, then, my lord?
ROCHESTER.I do, Sir Thomas.
PALMER.Then here I summon you forthwith t’ appearBefore his majesty, to answer thereThis capital contempt.
ROCHESTER.I rise and part,In lieu of this to tender him my heart.
[He riseth.]
PALMER.Wilt please your honor to subscribe, my lord?
MORE.Sir, tell his highness, I entreatSome time for to bethink me of this task:In the meanwhile I do resign mine officeInto my sovereign’s hands.
PALMER.Then, my lord,Hear the prepared order from the king:On your refusal, you shall straight departUnto your house at Chelsea, till you knowOur sovereign’s further pleasure.
MORE.Most willingly I go.—My lords, if you will visit me at Chelsea,We’ll go a fishing, and with a cunning net,Not like weak film, we’ll catch none but the great:Farewell, my noble lords. Why, this is right:Good morrow to the sun, to state good night!
[Exit More.]
PALMER.Will you subscribe, my lords?
SURREY.Instantly, good Sir Thomas,We’ll bring the writing unto our sovereign.
[They write.]
PALMER.My Lord of Rochester,You must with me, to answer this contempt.
ROCHESTER.This is the worst,Who’s freed from life is from all care exempt.
[Exit Rochester and Palmer.]
SURREY.Now let us hasten to our sovereign.Tis strange that my Lord Chancellor should refuseThe duty that the law of God bequeathsUnto the king.
SHREWSBURY.Come, let us in. No doubtHis mind will alter, and the bishop’s too:Error in learned heads hath much to do.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter the Lady More, her two Daughters, and Master Roper, as walking.]
ROPER.Madame, what ails ye for to look so sad?
LADY MORE.Troth, son, I know not what; I am not sick,And yet I am not well. I would be merry;But somewhat lies so heavy on heart,I cannot choose but sigh. You are a scholar;I pray ye, tell me, may one credit dreams?
ROPER.Why ask you that, dear madame?
LADY MORE.Because tonight I had the strangest dreamThat ere my sleep was troubled with. Me thought twas night,And that the king and queen went on the ThamesIn barges to hear music: my lord and IWere in a little boat me thought,—Lord, Lord,What strange things live in slumbers!—and, being near,We grappled to the barge that bare the king.But after many pleasing voices spentIn that still moving music house, me thoughThe violence of the stream did sever usQuite from the golden fleet, and hurried usUnto the bridge, which with unused horrorWe entered at full tide: thence some slight shootBeing carried by the waves, our boat stood stillJust opposite the Tower, and there it turnedAnd turned about, as when a whirl-pool sucksThe circled waters: me thought that we both cried,Till that we sunk: where arm in arm we died.
ROPER.Give no respect, dear madame, to fond dreams:They are but slight illusions of the blood.
LADY MORE.Tell me not all are so; for often dreamsAre true diviners, either of good or ill:I cannot be in quiet till I hearHow my lord fares.
ROPER.[aside.] No it.—Come hither, wife:I will not fright thy mother, to interpretThe nature of a dream; but trust me, sweet,This night I have been troubled with thy fatherBeyond all thought.
ROPER’S WIFE.Truly, and so have I:Methought I saw him here in Chelsea Church,Standing upon the roodloft, now defac’d;And whilst he kneeled and prayed before the image,It fell with him into the upper-choir,Where my poor father lay all stained in blood.
ROPER.Our dreams all meet in one conclusion,Fatal, I fear.
LADY MORE.What’s that you talk? I pray ye, let me know it.
ROPER’S WIFE.Nothing, good mother.
LADY MORE.This is your fashion still; I must know nothing.Call Master Catesby; he shall straight to court,And see how my lord does: I shall not rest,Until my heart leave panting on his breast.
[Enter Sir Thomas More merrily, Servants attending.]
DAUGHTER.See where my father comes, joyful and merry.
MORE.As seamen, having passed a troubled storm,Dance on the pleasant shore; so I—oh, I could speakNow like a poet! now, afore God, I am passing light!—Wife, give me kind welcome: thou wast wont to blameMy kissing when my beard was in the stubble;But I have been trimmed of late; I have hadA smooth court shaving, in good faith, I have.—
[Daughters kneel.]
God bless ye!—Son Roper, give me your hand.
ROPER.Your honor’s welcome home.
MORE.Honor! ha ha!—And how dost, wife?
ROPER.He bears himself most strangely.
LADY MORE.Will your lordship in?
MORE.Lordship! no, wife, that’s gone:The ground was slight that we did lean upon.
LADY MORE.Lord, that your honor ne’er will leave these jests!In faith, it ill becomes ye.
MORE.Oh, good wife,Honor and jests are both together fled;The merriest councillor of England’s dead.
LADY MORE.Who’s that, my lord?
MORE.Still lord! the Lord Chancellor, wife.
LADY MORE.That’s you.
MORE.Certain; but I have changed my life.Am I not leaner than I was before?The fat is gone; my title’s only More.Contented with one style, I’ll live at rest:They that have many names are not still best.I have resigned mine office: count’st me not wise?
LADY MORE.Oh God!
MORE.Come, breed not female children in your eyes:The king will have it so.
LADY MORE.What’s the offense?
MORE.Tush, let that pass; we’ll talk of that anon.The king seems a physician to my fate;His princely mind would train me back to state.
ROPER.Then be his patient, my most honored father.
MORE.Oh, son Roper,Ubi turpis est medicine, sanari piget!—No, wife, be merry;—and be merry, all:You smiled at rising, weep not at my fall.Let’s in, and hear joy like to private friends,Since days of pleasure have repentant ends:The light of greatness is with triumph born;It sets at midday oft with public scorn.
[Enter the Bishop of Rochester, Surrey, Shrewsbury, Lieutenant of the Tower, and Warders with weapons.]
ROCHESTER.Your kind persuasions, honorable lords,I can but thank ye for; but in this breastThere lives a soul that aims at higher thingsThan temporary pleasing earthly kings.God bless his highness even with all my heart!—We shall meet one day, though that now we part.
SURREY.We not misdoubt, your wisdom can discernWhat best befits it; yet in love and zealWe could entreat, it might be otherwise.
SHREWSBURY.No doubt, your fatherhood will by yourselfConsider better of the present case,And grow as great in favor as before.
ROCHESTER.For that, as pleaseth God. In my restraintFrom wordly causes, I shall better seeInto myself than at proud liberty:The Tower and I will privately conferOf things, wherein at freedom I may err.But I am troublesome unto your honors,And hold ye longer than becomes my duty.—Master Lieutenant, I am now your charge;And though you keep my body, yet my loveWaits on my king and you, while Fisher lives.
SURREY.Farewell, my Lord of Rochester; we’ll prayFor your release, and labour’t as we may.
SHREWSBURY.Thereof assure yourself; so do we leave ye,And to your happy private thoughts bequeath ye.
[Exeunt Lords.]
ROCHESTER.Now, Master Lieutenant, on; a God’s name, go!And with as glad a mind go I with youAs ever truant bade the school adieu.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Sir Thomas More, his Lady, Daughters, Master Roper,Gentlemen, and Servants, as in his house at Chelsea.]
MORE.Good morrow, good son Roper.—Sit, good madame,
[Low stools.]
Upon an humble seat; the time so craves;Rest your good heart on earth, the roof of graves:You see the floor of greatness is uneven;The cricket and high throne alike near heaven.—Now, daughters, you that like to branches spread,And give best shadow to a private house,Be comforted, my girls; your hopes stand fair:Virtue breeds gentry, she makes the best heir.
BOTH DAUGHTERS.Good morrow to your honor.
MORE.Nay, good night rather;Your honor’s crest-fain with your happy father.
ROPER.Oh, what formality, what square observance,Lives in a little room! here public careGags not the eyes of slumber; here fierce riotRuffles not proudly in a coat of trust,Whilst, like a pawn at chess, he keeps in rankWith kings and mighty fellows; yet indeedThose men that stand on tiptoe smile to seeHim pawn his fortunes.
MORE.True, son,….Nor does the wanton tongue here screw itselfInto the ear, that like a vise drinks upThe iron instrument.
LADY MORE.We are here at peace.
MORE.Then peace, good wife.
LADY MORE.For, keeping still in compass, a strange pointIn times new navigation we have sailedBeyond our course.
MORE.Have done.
LADY MORE.We are exiled the court.
MORE.Still thou harpest on that:Tis sin for to deserve that banishment;But he that ne’er knew court, courts sweet content.
LADY MORE.Oh, but, dear husband—
MORE.I will not hear thee, wife;The winding labyrinth of thy strange discourseWill ne’er have end. Sit still; and, my good wife,Entreat thy tongue be still; or, credit me,Thou shalt not understand a word we speak;We’ll talk in Latin.Humida vallis raros patitur fulminis ictus,More rest enjoys the subject meanly bredThan he that bears the kingdom in his head.Great men are still musicians, else the world lies;They learn low strains after the notes that rise.
ROPER.Good sir, be still yourself, and but rememberHow in this general court of short-lived pleasure,The world, creation is the ample foodThat is digested in the maw of time:If man himself be subject to such ruin,How shall his garment, then, or the loose pointsThat tie respect unto his awful place,Avoid destruction? Most honored father-in-law,The blood you have bequeathed these several heartsTo nourish your posterity, stands firm;And, as with joy you led us first to rise,So with like hearts we’ll lock preferment’s eyes.
MORE.Close them not, then, with tears: for that ostentGives a wet signal of your discontent.If you will share my fortunes, comfort then;An hundred smiles for one sigh: what! we are men:Resign wet passion to these weaker eyes,Which proves their sex, but grants it ne’er more wise.Let’s now survey our state. Here sits my wife,And dear esteemed issue; yonder standMy loving servants: now the differenceTwixt those and these. Now you shall hear my speakLike More in melancholy. I conceive that natureHath sundry metals, out of which she framesUs mortals, each in valuationOutprizing other: of the finest stuffThe finest features come: the rest of earth,Receive base fortune even before their birth;Hence slaves have their creation; and I thinkNature provides content for the base mind;Under the whip, the burden, and the toil,Their low-wrought bodies drudge in patience;As for the prince in all his sweet-gorged maw,And his rank flesh, that sinfully renewsThe noon’s excess in the night’s dangerous surfeits.What means or misery from our birth doth flowNature entitles to us; that we owe:But we, being subject to the rack of hate,Falling from happy life to bondage state,Having seen better days, now know the lackOf glory that once reared each high-fed back.But you, that in your age did ne’er view better,Challenged not fortune for your thriftless debter.
CATESBY.Sir, we have seen far better days than these.
MORE.I was the patron of those days, and knowThose were but painted days, only for show.Then grieve not you to fall with him that gave them:Generosis servis gloriosum mori.Dear Gough, thou art my learned secretary;You, Master Catesby, steward of my house;The rest like you have had fair time to growIn sun-shine of my fortunes. But I must tell ye,Corruption is fled hence with each man’s office;Bribes, that make open traffic twixt the soulAnd netherland of hell, deliver upTheir guilty homage to the second lords.Then, living thus untainted, you are well:Truth is no pilot for the land of hell.
[Enter a Servant.]
SERVANT.My lord, there are new lighted at the gateThe Earls of Surrey and of Shrewsbury,And they expect you in the inner court.
MORE.Entreat their lordships come into the hall.
[Exit Servant.]
LADY MORE.Oh, God, what news with them?
MORE.Why, how now, wife!They are but come to visit their old friend.
LADY MORE.Oh, God, I fear, I fear!
MORE.What shouldst thou fear, fond woman?Justum, si fractus illabatur orbis, inpavidum ferient ruinae.Here let me live estranged from great men’s looks;They are like golden flies on leaden hooks.
[Enter the Earls, Downs with his mace, and Attendants.]
SHREWSBURY.Good morrow, good Sir Thomas.
[Kind salutations.]
SURREY.Good day, good madame.
MORE.Welcome, my good lords.What ails your lordships look so melancholy?Oh, I know; you live in court, and the court dietIs only friend to physic.
SURREY.Oh, Sir Thomas,Our words are now the kings, and our sad looksThe interest of your love! We are sent to youFrom our mild sovereign, once more to demandIf you’ll subscribe unto those articlesHe sent ye th’ other day: be well advised;For, on mine honor, lord, grave Doctor FisherBishop of Rochester, at the self same instantAttached with you, is sent unto the TowerFor the like obstinacy: his majestyHath only sent you prisoner to your house;But, if you now refuse for to subscribe,A stricter course will follow.
LADY MORE.Oh, dear husband!
[Kneeling and weeping.]
BOTH DAUGHTERS.Dear father!
MORE.See, my lords,This partner and these subjects to my fleshProve rebels to my conscience! But, my good lords,If I refuse, must I unto the Tower?
SHREWSBURY.You must, my lord; here is an officerReady for to arrest you of high treason.
LADY MORE AND DAUGHTERS.Oh, God, oh, God!
ROPER.Be patient, good madam.
MORE.Aye, Downs, ist thou? I once did save thy life,When else by cruel riotous assaultThou hadst been torn in pieces: thou art reservedTo be my summoner to yond spiritual court.Give me thy hand; good fellow, smooth thy face:The diet that thou drinkst is spic’d with mace,And I could ne’er abide it; ’twill not disgest,Twill lie too heavily, man, on my weak breast.
SHREWSBURY.Be brief, my lord, for we are limitedUnto an hour.
MORE.Unto an hour! tis well:The bell soon shall toll my knell.
LADY MORE.Dear loving husband, if you respect not me,Yet think upon your daughters.
[Kneeling.]
MORE.Wife, stand up; I have bethought me,And I’ll now satisfy the king’s good pleasure.
[Pointing to himself.]
BOTH DAUGHTERS.Oh, happy alteration!
SHREWSBURY.Come, then, subscribe, my lord.
SURREY.I am right glad of this your fair conversion.
MORE.Oh, pardon me!I will subscribe to go unto the TowerWith all submissive willingness, and thereto addMy bones to strengthen the foundationOf Julius Caesar’s palace. Now, my lord,I’ll satisfy the king, even with my blood;Now will I wrong your patience.—Friend, do thine office.
DOWNES. Sir thomas More, Lord Chancellor of England, I arrest you in the king’s name of high treason.
MORE.Gramercies, friend.To a great prison, to discharge the strifeCommenc’d twixt conscience and my frailer life,More now must march. Chelsea, adieu, adieu!Strange farewell! thou shalt ne’er more see More true,For I shall ne’er see thee more.—Servants, farewell.—Wife, mar not thine indifferent face; be wise:More’s widow’s husband, he must make thee rise.—Daughters….: —what’s here, what’s here?Mine eye had almost parted with a tear.—Dear son, possess my virtue, that I ne’er gave.—Grave More thus lightly walks to a quick grave.
ROPER.Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.
MORE.You that way in; mind you my course in prayer:By water I to prison, to heaven through air.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter the Warders of the Tower, with halbards.]
FIRST WARDER.Ho, make a guard there!
SECOND WARDER.Master Lieutenant gives a straight command,The people be avoided from the bridge.
THIRD WARDER.From whence is he committed, who can tell?
FIRST WARDER.From Durham House, I hear.
SECOND WARDER.The guard were waiting there are hour ago.
THIRD WARDER.If he stay long, he’ll not get near the wharf,There’s such a crowd of boats upon the Thames.
SECOND WARDER.Well, be it spoken without offence to any,A wiser or more virtuous gentlemanWas never bred in England.
THIRD WARDER.I think, the poor will bury him in tears:I never heard a man, since I was born,So generally bewailed of every one.
[Enter a Poor Woman.]
What means this woman?—Whether doost thou press?
FIRST WARDER.This woman will be trod to death anon.
SECOND WARDER.What makest thou here?
WOMAN.To speak with that good man, Sir Thomas More.
SECOND WARDER.To speak with him! he’s not Lord Chancellor.
WOMAN.The more’s the pity, sir, if it pleased God.
SECOND WARDER.Therefore, if thou hast a petition to deliver,Thou mayst keep it now, for any thing I know.
WOMAN.I am a poor woman, and have had (God knows)A suit this two year in the Chancery;And he hath all the evidence I haveWhich should I lose, I am utterly undone.
SECOND WARDER.Faith, and I fear thoult hardly come by am now;I am sorry for thee, even with all my heart.
[Enter the Lords with Sir Thomas More, and Attendants, and enterLieutenant and Gentleman Porter.]
Woman, stand back, you must avoid this place;The lords must pass this way into the Tower.
MORE.I thank your lordships for your pains thus farTo my strong house.
WOMAN.Now, good Sir Thomas More, for Christ’s dear sake,Deliver me my writings back againThat do concern my title.
MORE.What, my old client, are thou got hither too?Poor silly wretch, I must confess indeed,I had such writings as concern thee near;But the king has ta’en the matter into his own hand;He has all I had: then, woman, sue to him;I cannot help thee; thou must bear with me.
WOMAN.Ah, gentle heart, my soul for thee is sad!Farewell the best friend that the poor e’er had.
[Exit Woman.]
GENTLEMAN PORTER.Before you enter through the Towergate,Your upper garment, sir, belongs to me.
MORE.Sir, you shall have it; there it is.
[He gives him his cap.]
GENTLEMAN PORTER.The upmost on your back, sir; you mistake me.
MORE.Sir, now I understand ye very well:But that you name my back,Sure else my cap had been the uppermost.