Chapter V: 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 fit For 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 embrace Somewhat 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 time That 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 prove Whether a little thing would you move To be angry and fret: What, and if one said so? Let such trifling matters go And 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 Inclination Does 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 a little. Now, if thou canst give Wit any better council than I have done, 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 ordained Equally to decide true right his own, And shall I have deceivers in my house? Then what avails my bounty, when such servants Deceive 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.]

SCENE II. Whitehall. The Council chamber.

[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 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; 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 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 soon bring This prize of conquest in. But, then, my lords, As in the moral hunting twixt the lion And other beasts, force joined with greed 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 over-awed 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 honor with the theft of English spoil.

MORE. There is no question but this entertainment Will be most honorable, 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! 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 me These articles enclosed, first to be viewed, And then to be subscribed to: I tender them In 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’ 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. Wilt please your honor 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.

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 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 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 learned heads hath much to do.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Chelsea.

[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 dream That ere my sleep was troubled with. Me thought 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 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 spent In that still moving music house, me though 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 slight shoot Being carried by the waves, our boat stood still Just opposite the Tower, and there it turned And turned about, as when a whirl-pool sucks The 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 dreams Are true diviners, either of good or ill: I cannot be in quiet till I hear How my lord fares.

ROPER. [aside.] No it.—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. 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 speak Now like a poet! now, afore God, I am passing light!— Wife, give me kind welcome: 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.]

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.

SCENE IV. The Tower.

[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 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. No doubt, your fatherhood will by yourself Consider better of the present case, And grow as great in favor as before.

ROCHESTER. For that, as pleaseth God. In my restraint From wordly 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 honors, 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 For 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 you As ever truant bade the school adieu.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE V. Chelsea. A Room in More’s House.

[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 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,.... Nor does the wanton tongue here screw itself Into the ear, that like a vise 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 times new navigation we have sailed Beyond 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 discourse Will 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 bred Than 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 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 That tie respect unto his awful place, Avoid destruction? Most honored 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.

MORE. Close them not, then, with tears: for that ostent Gives 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 stand My loving servants: now the difference Twixt those and these. Now you shall hear my speak Like More in melancholy. I conceive that nature Hath sundry metals, out of which she frames Us mortals, each in valuation Outprizing other: of the finest stuff The finest features come: the rest of earth, Receive base fortune even before their birth; Hence slaves have their creation; and I think Nature 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 renews The noon’s excess in the night’s dangerous surfeits. What means or misery from our birth doth flow Nature 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 lack Of 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 know Those 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 grow In 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 soul And netherland of hell, deliver up Their 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 gate The 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 diet Is only friend to physic.

SURREY. Oh, Sir Thomas, Our words are now the kings, 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 mine honor, 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. Oh, dear husband!

[Kneeling and weeping.]

BOTH DAUGHTERS. 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; here is an officer Ready 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 assault Thou hadst been torn in pieces: thou art reserved To 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 limited Unto 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 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; 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 strife Commenc’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.]