The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

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The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 271

by William Shakespeare


  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.

 

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