William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition

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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.

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.

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!

Come, breed not female children in your eyes.

The King will have it so.

LADY MORE

What’s the offence?

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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—

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

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)]

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.

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.

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.

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

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—

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sir, you shall have it. There it is.

He gives him his cap

GENTLEMAN PORTER

The upmost on your back, sir. You mistake me.

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.

My lord, and my dear fellow in the Muses,

Farewell. Farewell, most noble poet.

LIEUTENANT

Adieu, most honoured lords. Exeunt Lords

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,