That tie respect unto his awe-ful place,
Avoid destruction? Most honoured father-in-law,
The blood you have bequeathed these several hearts
To 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.
[Original Text (Munday)]
[Addition I (Chettle)]
MORE
Now will I speak like More in melancholy;
For if griefs power could with her sharpest darts
Pierce my firm bosom, here’s sufficient cause
To take my farewell of mirth’s hurtless laws.
Poor humbled lady, thou that wert of late
Placed with the noblest women of the land,
Invited to their angel companies,
Seeming a bright star in the courtly sphere:
Why shouldst thou like a widow sit thus low,
And all thy fair consorts move from the clouds
That overdrip thy beauty and thy worth?
I’ll tell thee the true cause. The court, like heaven,
Examines not the anger of the prince,
And, being more frail-composed of gilded earth,
Shines upon them on whom the king doth shine,
Smiles if he smile, declines if he decline,
Yet, seeing both are mortal, court and king
Shed not one tear for any earthly thing.
For, so God pardon me, in my saddest hour
Thou hast no more occasion to lament,
Nor these, nor those, my exile from the court-
No, nor this body’s torture, were’t imposed,
As commonly disgraces of great men
Are the forewarnings of a hasty death—
Than to behold me after many a toil
Honoured with endless rest. Perchance the King,
Seeing the court is full of vanity,
Has pity lest our souls should be misled
And sends us to a life contemplative.
O, happy banishment from worldly pride,
When souls by private life are sanctified!
WIFE
O, but I fear some plot against your life.
MORE
Why then, ‘tis thus: the King, of his high grace,
Seeing my faithful service to his state,
Intends to send me to the King of Heaven
For a rich present; where my soul shall prove
A true rememb’rer of his majesty.
Come, prithee mourn not. The worst chance is death,
And that brings endless joy for fickle breath.
WIFE
Ah, but your children.
MORE
Tush, let them alone.
Say they be stripped from this poor painted cloth,
This outside of the earth, left houseless, bare;
They have minds instructed how to gather more.
There’s no man that’s ingenious can be poor.
And therefore do not weep, my little ones,
Though you lose all the earth. Keep your souls even
And you shall find inheritance in heaven.
But for my servants: there’s my chiefest care.
[To Catesby] Come hither, faithful steward. Be not
grieved
That in thy person I discharge both thee
And all thy other fellow officers;
For my great master hath discharged me.
If thou by serving me hast suffered loss,
Then benefit thyself by leaving me.
I hope thou hast not; for such times as these
Bring gain to officers, whoever leese.
Great lords have only name; but in the fall
Lord Spend-All’s steward’s Master Gather-All.
But I suspect not thee. Admit thou hast.
It’s good the servants save when masters waste.
But you, poor gentlemen, that had no place
T’enrich yourselves but by loathed bribery,
Which I abhorred, and never found you loved:
Think, when an oak falls, underwood shrinks down,
And yet may live, though bruised. I pray ye strive
To shun my ruin; for the axe is set
Even at my root, to fell me to the ground.
The best I can do to prefer you all
With my mean store expect; for heaven can tell
That More loves all his followers more than well.
[Addition I (Chettle)]
[Original Text (Munday)]
Enter a Servant
SERVANT
My lord, there are new lighted at the gate
The Earls of Surrey and of Shrewsbury,
And they expect you in the inner court.
MORE
Entreat their lordships come into the hall.
LADY MORE
O God, what news with them?
MORE Why, how now, wife?
They are but come to visit their old friend.
LADY MORE
O God, I fear, I fear.
MORE What shouldst thou fear, fond woman?
Iustum, si fractus illabatur orbis, impavidum ferient ruinae.
Here let me live estranged from great men’s looks.
They are like golden flies on leaden hooks.
Enter the Earls for Surrey and Shrewsbury], Downes, with his mace, and Attendants
SHREWSBURY
Good morrow, good Sir Thomas.
SURREY [to Lady More]
Good day, good madam.
Kind salutations
MORE
Welcome, my good lords.
What ails your lordships look so melancholy?
O, I know: you live in court, and the court diet
Is only friend to physic.
SURREY
O Sir Thomas,
Our words are now the King‘s, and our sad looks
The interest of your love. We are sent to you
From our mild sovereign once more to demand
If you’ll subscribe unto those articles
He sent ye th’other day. Be well advised,
For, on my honour, lord, grave Doctor Fisher,
Bishop of Rochester, at the self-same instant
Attached with you, is sent unto the Tower
For the like obstinacy. His majesty
Hath only sent you prisoner to your house,
But, if you now refuse for to subscribe,
A stricter course will follow.
LADY MORE (kneeling and weeping)
O dear husband—
BOTH DAUGHTERS (kneeling and weeping) Dear father—
MORE
See, my lords,
This partner and these subjects to my flesh
Prove rebels to my conscience. But, my good lords,
If I refuse, must I unto the Tower?
SHREWSBURY
You must, my lord. [Gesturing to Downes] Here is an officer
Ready for to arrest you of high treason.
LADY MORE and DAUGHTERS
O God, O God!
ROPER
Be patient, good madam.
MORE
Ay, Downes, is’t thou? I once did save thy life,
When else by cruel riotous assault
Thou hadst been torn in pieces. Thou art reserved
To be my summ‘ner to yon spiritual court.
Give me thy hand, good fellow. Smooth thy face.
The diet that thou drink’st is spiced with mace,
And I could ne‘er abide it. ’Twill not digest,
’Twill lie too heavy, man, on my weak breast.
SHREWSBURY
Be brief, my lord, for we are limited
Unto an hour.
MORE
Unto an hour? ’Tis well.
The bell, earth’s thunder, soon shall toll my knell.
LADY MORE (kneeling)
Dear loving husband, if you respect not me,
Yet think upon your daughters.
MORE (pondering to himself) Wife, stand up.
I have bethought me;
And I’ll now satisfy the King’s good pleasure.
BOTH DAUGHTERS
O happy alteration!
SHREWSBURY
Come then, subscribe, my lord.
SURREY
I am right glad of this your fair conversion.
MORE O pardon me,
I will subscribe to go unto the Tower
With all submissive willingness, and thereto add
My bones to strengthen the foundation
Of Julius Caesar’s palace. Now, my lord,
I’ll satisfy the King even with my blood.
Nor will I wrong your patience. [To Downes] 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 strife
Commenced ‘twixt conscience and my frailer life, 185
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 [More, Downes, and Attendants at one door, the rest at another]
Sc. 14 Enter the Warders of the Tower, with halberds
FIRST WARDER Ho, make a guard there!
SECOND WARDER
Master Lieutenant gives a strait 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 an 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.
FIRST WARDER
Well, be it spoken without offence to any,
A wiser or more virtuous gentleman
Was never bred in England.
SECOND WARDER
I think the poor will bury him in tears.
I never heard a man since I was born
So generally bewailed of everyone.
Enter a poor Woman [with others in a crowd]
THIRD WARDER
What means this woman?—Whither dost thou press?
FIRST WARDER
This woman will be trod to death anon.
SECOND WARDER [to the Woman] What makest thou here?
WOMAN
To speak with that good man Sir Thomas More.
FIRST WARDER
To speak with him? He’s not Lord Chancellor.
WOMAN
The more’s the pity, sir, if it pleased God.
FIRST WARDER
Therefore if thou hast a petition to deliver
Thou mayst keep it now, for anything 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 have,
Which should I lose I am utterly undone.
FIRST WARDER
Faith, and I fear thou‘It hardly come by ’em now.
I am sorry for thee even with all my heart.
Enter the Lords [of Shrewsbury and Surrey], with Sir Thomas More, and attendants; and enter Lieutenant and Gentleman Porter
SECOND WARDER
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 far
To my strong-house.
WOMAN
Now good Sir Thomas More, for Christ’s dear sake
Deliver me my writings back again
That do concern my title.
MORE
What, my old client, art 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
GENTLEMAN PORTER
Before you enter through the Tower gate,
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.
SHREWSBURY
Farewell, kind lord. God send us merry meeting.
MORE Amen, my lord.
SURREY
Farewell, dear friend. I hope your safe return.
MORE
My lord, and my dear fellow in the Muses,
Farewell. Farewell, most noble poet.
LIEUTENANT
Adieu, most honoured lords. Exeunt Lords
MORE
Fair prison, welcome. Yet methinks
For thy fair building ‘tis too foul a name.
Many a guilty soul, and many an innocent,
Have breathed their farewell to thy hollow rooms.
I oft have entered into thee this way,
Yet, I thank God, ne’er with a clearer conscience
Than at this hour.
This is my comfort yet: how hard soe’er
My lodging prove, the cry of the poor suitor,
Fatherless orphan, or distressèd widow
Shall not disturb me in my quiet sleep.
On then, i’ God’s name, to our close abode.
God is as strong here as he is abroad.
Exeunt
Sc. 15 Enter Butler, Brewer, Porter, and Horse-keeper, several ways
BUTLER Robin Brewer, how now, man? What cheer, what cheer?
BREWER Faith, Ned Butler, sick of thy disease, and these our other fellows here, Ralph Horse-keeper and Giles Porter: sad, sad. They say my lord goes to his trial today.
HORSE-KEEPER To it, man? Why, he is now at it. God send him well to speed!
PORTER Amen. Even as I wish to mine own soul, so speed it with my honourable lord and master Sir Thomas More!
BUTLER I cannot tell—I have nothing to do with matters above my capacity—but, as God judge me, if I might speak my mind, I think there lives not a more harmless gentleman in the universal world.
BREWER Nor a wiser, nor a merrier, nor an honester. Go to, I’ll put that in upon mine own knowledge.
PORTER Nay, an ye bate him his due of his housekeeping, hang ye all! Ye have many lord chancellors comes in debt at the year’s end, and for very housekeeping!
HORSE-KEEPER Well, he was too good a lord for us, and therefore, I fear, God himself will take him. But I’ll be hanged if ever I have such another service.
BREWER Soft, man, we are not discharged yet. My lord may come home again, and all will be well.
BUTLER I much mistrust it. When they go to ’
raigning once, there’s ever foul weather for a great while after. Enter Gough and Catesby, with a paper
But soft, here comes Master Gough and Master Catesby.
Now we shall hear more.
HORSE-KEEPER Before God, they are very sad. I doubt my lord is condemned.
PORTER God bless his soul, and a fig then for all worldly condemnation!
GOUGH
Well said, Giles Porter, I commend thee for it.
’Twas spoken like a well-affected servant
Of him that was a kind lord to us all.
CATESBY
Which now no more he shall be, for, dear fellows,
Now we are masterless. Though he may live
So long as please the King, but law hath made him
A dead man to the world, and given the axe his head,
But his sweet soul to live among the saints.
GOUGH
Let us entreat ye to go call together
The rest of your sad fellows—by the roll
You’re just seven score—and tell them what ye hear
A virtuous, honourable lord hath done
Even for the meanest follower that he had.
This writing found my lady in his study
This instant morning, wherein is set down
Each servant’s name, according to his place
And office in the house. On every man
He frankly hath bestown twenty nobles,
The best and worst together, all alike,
Which Master Catesby hereforth will pay ye.
CATESBY
Take it as it is meant, a kind remembrance
Of a far kinder lord, with whose sad fall
He gives up house, and farewell to us all.
Thus the fair spreading oak falls not alone,
But all the neighbour plants and under-trees
Are crushed down with his weight. No more of this.
Come and receive your due, and after go
Fellow-like hence, co-partners of one woe.
Exeunt
Sc. 16 Enter Sir Thomas More, the Lieutenant, and a Servant attending, as in his chamber in the Tower
MORE
Master Lieutenant, is the warrant come?
If it be so, i’ God’s name let us know it.
LIEUTENANT My lord, it is.
MORE
’Tis welcome, sir, to me with all my heart.
His blessèd will be done.
LIEUTENANT
Your wisdom, sir, hath been so well approved,
And your fair patience in imprisonment
Hath ever shown such constancy of mind
And Christian resolution in all troubles,
As warrants us you are not unprepared.
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 271
