The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  [PLAYER of INCLINATION] And many such rewards would make us all ride, and horse us with the best nags in Smithfield.⌈Exeunt⌉

  [Addition VI (Heywood)]

  [Original Text (Munday)]

  Sc. 10 Enter the Earls of Shrewsbury, Surrey, Bishop of Rochester, and other lords, [attended,] severally, doing courtesy to each other, Clerk of the Council waiting bare-headed

  SURREY

  Good morrow to my lord of Shrewsbury.

  SHREWSBURY

  The like unto the honoured Earl of Surrey.

  Yon 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 Chancellor

  Doth stay so long, considering there’s matters

  Of high importance to be scanned upon.

  SURREY

  Clerk of the Council, certify his lordship

  The lords expect him here.

  ROCHESTER

  It shall not need.

  Yon 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.

  They sit

  O serious square!

  Upon this little board is daily scanned

  The 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 King

  In 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 Emperor

  ’Gainst the perfidious French into our pay.

  SURREY

  My lords, as‘tis the custom in this place

  The youngest should speak first, so if I chance

  In this case to speak youngly, pardon me.

  I will agree France now hath her full strength,

  As having new recovered the pale blood

  Which war sluiced forth; and I consent to this:

  That the conjunction of our English forces

  With arms of Germany may sooner bring

  This prize of conquest in. But then, my lords,

  As in the moral hunting ’twixt the lion

  And other beasts force joined 〈 〉

  Frighted the weaker sharers from their parts,

  So, if the Empire’s sovereign chance to put

  His plea of partnership into war’s court,

  Swords should decide the difference, and our blood

  In 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 down

  From his imperial seat, to march in pay

  Under 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 overawed himself.

  ROCHESTER

  Yet, my good lord—

  SHREWSBURY

  Let me conclude my speech.

  As subjects share no portion in the conquest

  Of their true sovereign other than the merit

  That from the sovereign guerdons the true subject,

  So the good Emperor in a friendly league

  Of amity with England will not soil

  His honour with the theft of English spoil.

  MORE

  There is no question but this entertainment

  Will be most honourable, most commodious.

  I have oft heard good captains wish to have

  Rich soldiers to attend them, such as would fight

  Both for their lives and livings. Such a one

  Is the good Emperor. I would to God

  We had ten thousand of such able men.

  Ha, 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 me

  These articles enclosed, first to be viewed,

  And then to be subscribed to. (With great reverence) I

  tender them

  In that due reverence which befits this place.

  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’appear

  Before his majesty, to answer there

  This capital contempt.

  ROCHESTER I rise, and part,

  In lieu of this, to tender him my heart. He riseth

  PALMER

  Will’t please your honour to subscribe, my lord?

  MORE

  Sir, tell his highness, I entreat

  Some time for to bethink me of this task.

  In the meanwhile, I do resign mine office

  Into my sovereign’s hands. All alter

  PALMER

  Then, my lord,

  Hear the prepared order from the King.

  On your refusal you shall straight depart

  Unto your house at Chelsea, till you know

  Our 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

  PALMER

  Will you subscribe, my lords?

  SURREY

  Instantly, good Sir Thomas.

  They write

  We’ll bring the writing unto our sovereign.

  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.

  Exeunt Rochester and Palmer

  SURREY

  Now let us hasten to our sovereign.

  ’Tis strange that my Lord Chancellor should refuse

  The duty that the law of God bequeaths

  Unto the king.

  SHREWSBURY

  Come, let us in. No doubt

  His mind will alter, and the Bishop’s too.

  Error in learnèd heads hath much to do.

  [Exeunt]

  Sc. 11 Enter the Lady More, her two Daughters, [one of them Roper’s Wife,] and Master Roper, as walking

  ROPER

  Madam, 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 my 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 madam?

  LADY MORE

  Because tonight I had the strangest dream

  That e‘er my sleep was troubled with.

  Methought ’twas night,

  And that the King and Queen went on the Thames

  In barges to hear music. My lord and I

  Were in a little boat, methought—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 spent

  In that still-moving music house, methought

  The violence of the stream did sever us

  Quite from the golden fleet and hurried us

  Unto the Bridge which, with unused horror,

  We entered at full tide; thence some flight shoot

  Being carried by the waves, our boat stood still

  Just opposite the Tower; and there it turned

  And turned about, as when a whirlpool sucks

  The circled waters. Methought that we both cried,

  Till that we sunk, where arm in arm we died.

  ROPER

  Give no respect, dear madam, to fond dreams.

  They are but slight illusions of the blood.

  LADY MORE

  Tell me not all are so, for often dreams

  Are true diviners, either of good or ill.

  I cannot be in quiet till I hear

  How my lord fares.

  ROPER (aside)

  Nor I.—Come hither, wife.

  I will not fright thy mother to interpret

  The nature of a dream; but, trust me, sweet,

  This night I have been troubled with thy father

  Beyond all thought.

  ROPER’S WIFE [aside to Roper] Truly, and so have I.

  Methought I saw him here in Chelsea church,

  Standing upon the rood-loft, now defaced;

  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 [aside to his Wife]

  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 lean panting on his breast.

  Enter Sir Thomas More, merrily, servants attending

  MORE’S OTHER DAUGHTER

  See where my father comes, joyful and merry.

  MORE

  As seamen, having passed a troubled storm,

  Dance on the pleasant shore, so I—O, I could speak

  Now like a poet! Now, afore God, I am passing light.

  Wife, give me kind welcome.

  [He kisses her]

  Thou wast wont to blame

  My kissing when my beard was in the stubble;

  But I have been trimmed of late: I have had

  A smooth court shaving, in good faith, I have.

  Daughters kneel

  [To Daughters] God bless ye.—Son Roper, give me your

  hand.

  ROPER

  Your honour’s welcome home.

  MORE Honour? Ha, ha!

  And how dost, wife?

  ROPER [aside] 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 honour ne’er will leave these jests!

  In faith, it ill becomes ye.

  MORE O good wife,

  Honour 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 O God!

  MORE

  Come, breed not female children in your eyes.

  The King will have it so.

  LADY MORE

  What’s the offence?

  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 honoured father.

  MORE O son Roper,

  Ubi turpis est medicina, sanari piget.

  No, wife, be merry, and be merry all.

  You smiled at rising; weep not at my fall.

  Let’s in, and here joy like to private friends,

  Since days of pleasure have repentant ends.

  The light of greatness is with triumph borne;

  It sets at midday oft, with public scorn. Exeunt

  Sc. 12 Enter the Bishop of Rochester, Surrey, Shrewsbury, Lieutenant of the Tower, and warders with weapons

  ROCHESTER

  Your kind persuasions, honourable lords,

  I can but thank ye for, but in this breast

  There lives a soul that aims at higher things

  Than 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 discern

  What best befits it; yet in love and zeal

  We could entreat it might be otherwise.

  SHREWSBURY [to Rochester]

  No doubt your fatherhood will by yourself

  Consider better of the present case,

  And grow as great in favour as before.

  ROCHESTER

  For that, as pleaseth God, in my restraint

  From worldly causes I shall better see

  Into myself than at proud liberty.

  The Tower and I will privately confer

  Of things wherein at freedom I may err.

  But I am troublesome unto your honours,

  And hold ye longer than becomes my duty.

  Master Lieutenant, I am now your charge;

  And, though you keep my body, yet my love

  Waits on my king and you while Fisher lives.

  SURREY

  Farewell, my lord of Rochester. We’ll pray

  or your release, and labour’t as we may.

  SHREWSBURY [to Rochester]

  Thereof assure yourself. So do we leave ye,

  And to your happy private thoughts bequeath ye.

  Exeunt Lords

  ROCHESTER

  Now, Master Lieutenant, on; i’ God’s name, go;

  And with as glad a mind go I with you

  As ever truant bade the school adieu.

  Exeunt

  Sc. 13 Enter Sir Thomas More, his Lady, Daughters, ⌈one of them Roper’s Wife,⌉ Master Roper, Gentlemen and Servants ⌈amongst them Catesby and Gough⌉ as in his house at Chelsea. Low stools

  MORE

  Good morrow, good son Roper. [To Lady More] Sit, good

  madam,

  Upon an humble seat; the time so craves.

  Rest your good heart on earth, the roof of graves.
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  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 honour.

  MORE

  Nay, good night rather.

  Your honour’s crest-fall’n with your happy father.

  ROPER

  O, what formality, what square observance,

  Lives in a little room! Here public care

  Gags not the eyes of slumber. Here fierce riot

  Ruffles not proudly in a coat of trust

  Whilst, like a pawn at chess, he keeps in rank

  With kings and mighty fellows. Yet indeed,

  Those men that stand on tiptoe smile to see

  Him pawn his fortunes.

  MORE

  True, son, here’s not so,

  Nor does the wanton tongue here screw itself

  Into the ear, that like a vice drinks up

  The iron instrument.

  LADY MORE

  We are here at peace.

  MORE Then peace, good wife.

  LADY MORE

  For keeping still in compass—a strange point

  In time’s new navigation—we have sailed

  Beyond our course.

  MORE

  Have done.

  LADY MORE

  We are exiled the court.

  MORE Still thou harp’st on that.

  ‘Tis sin for to deserve that banishment;

  But he that ne’er knew court courts sweet content.

  LADY MORE

  O, but dear husband—

  MORE

  I will not hear thee, wife.

  The winding labyrinth of thy strange discourse

  Will ne’er have end. Sit still, and, my good wife,

  Entreat thy tongue be stilt—or, credit me,

  Thou shalt not understand a word we speak.

  We’ll talk in Latin.

  [To Roper] Humida vallis raros patitur fulminis ictus.

  More rest enjoys the subject meanly bred

  Than he that bears the kingdom in his head.

  ROPER

  Great men are still musicians, else the world lies:

  They learn low strains after the notes that rise.

  Good sir, be still yourself, and but remember

  How in this general court of short-lived pleasure

  The world, creation is the ample food

  That is digested in the maw of time.

  If man himself be subject to such ruin,

  How shall his garment then, or the loose points