SIR THOMAS MORE

by Shakespeare · Cluster: Court · Medieval England · History Play

Abstract

A collaborative history play (with a Shakespearian scene) dramatizing Thomas More’s quelling of the Ill May Day anti-foreigner riots, his rise to Lord Chancellor and his martyrdom for refusing the King’s demands; central themes of obedience, conscience and martyrdom.

Capitoli / Chapters

• Scene 1
• Scene 2
• Scene 3
• Scene 4
• Scene 5
• Scene 6
• Scene 7
• Scene 8
• Scene 9
• Scene 10
• Scene 11
• Scene 12
• Scene 13
• Scene 14
• Scene 15
• Scene 16
• Scene 17

Connections

Topoi: Fortune’s Wheel, Contemptus Mundi, Memento Mori Archetypes: Martyr Saint, King, Rebel Motifs: Cross, City, Grave Themes & Concepts: Martyrdom, Conscience, Kingship and Legitimacy, Order vs Chaos, Class Conflict, Exile, Faith, Humility, Mortality, Economics, History Forms & Genres: History Play, Verse Drama, Blank Verse Historical References: Christianity, Catholic Church, Reformation, Medieval England Settings: London, Court Characters: Sir Thomas More, Earl of Surrey, Lord Mayor, Lincoln

Testo integrale / Full text

Chi parla	Battuta
BY ANTHONY MUNDAY AND	HENRY CHETTLE, WITH REVISIONS AND ADDITIONS BY THOMAS DEKKER, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND THOMAS HEY WOOD
THE	text that follows is entirely different from any other in this volume. All the other plays derive from printed editions; this comes from what is probably the untidiest, most heavily revised dramatic manuscript of the period, giving us unique insights into its playwrights’ working conditions. It represents a troubled and ultimately abandoned attempt on the part of various authors to create a script, interrupted by the censorial intervention of the Master of the Revels, Edmund Tilney. The working manuscript preserved in the British Library is described on its first leaf as ‘The Booke’—that is, the theatre manuscript—‘of Sir Thomas Moore.’ The basic manuscript is a fair copy made by the dramatist Anthony Munday (1560-1633) of a text in which he may have collaborated with Henry Chettle (c. 1560-c. 1607). Alterations and additions were made by Chettle, Thomas Dekker (c. 15 72-1632), very probably William Shakespeare, and probably Thomas Heywood (c. 1573-1641). A theatre scribe annotated parts of the manuscript, and some of the revisions exist in transcripts he wrote out. In this edition each section is preceded and concluded with an identification of the hand. It seems likely that the original play was written during the early 1590s and submitted in the usual way to the Master of the Revels for a licence. Tilney called for substantial alterations. Though the play’s favourable portrait of a man sometimes seen as a Catholic martyr was provocative, Tilney’s attention was concentrated mostly on the insurrection scenes. In our view the original play was laid aside until soon after Queen Elizabeth died, in 1603, when the political objections would have carried less weight, and the revisions—which do not meet Tilney’s requirements—were made then. Shakespeare’s authorship of the majority of Sc.6, first proposed in 1871, has been accepted by most scholars on the basis of handwriting and of the evidence of dramatic and linguistic style. His contribution shows him as a thoroughgoing professional sharing with colleagues whose work he respected in an essentially collaborative enterprise. Sir Thomas More is based on Holinshed’s Chronicles and Nicholas Harpsfield’s biography of More. Sheriff More peacefully quells the riots of Londoners against resident foreigners on the ‘Ill May Day’ of 1517, and is appointed Lord Chancellor as a reward. In the Shakespearian Sc. 6, More persuades the rebels to surrender to the King, arguing for obedience to authority and challenging the rebels to consider their own plight if, like the strangers, they were to live in exile. A passage less securely attributed to Shakespeare is More’s bemused and wary soliloquy at the beginning of Sc. 8. The play elsewhere presents a series of serio-comic episodes dramatizing his wit in attempting to reform minor offenders, his credentials as a humanist, his practical joking, and his love of plays. More’s downfall and passage to the scaffold begin when he refuses the King’s demand that he sign unspecified articles. Later scenes, though sombre in tone, depict his almost light-hearted resolution to pursue death rather than yield to the King’s demands. The play has been performed most notably by the Royal Shakespeare Company in 2005.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY Thomas MORE, a sheriff of London, later Sir Thomas More and Lord Chancellor The Earl of SHREWSBURY The Earl of SURREY John LINCOLN, a broker
DOLL	Williamson WILLIAMSON, her husband, a carpenter
CLOWN	BETTS, his brother, called Ralph SHERWIN, a goldsmith Francis de BARDE, a Lombard CAVELIER, a Lombard or Frenchman The LORD MAYOR of London The LADY MAYORESS Justice SURESBY LIFTER, a cutpurse SMART, the plaintiff against him The RECORDER of London Sir Thomas PALMER Sir Roger CHOLMLEY Sir John MUNDAY A SERGEANT-at-arms CROFTS, a messenger from the King RANDALL, More’s manservant Jack FALKNER, a ruffian ERASMUS, a learned clerk of Rotterdam MORRIS, secretary to the Bishop of Winchester The Lord Cardinal’s PLAYERS, performing the roles of:
WIT	A boy player of LADY VANITY LUGGINS, player of Good Counsel William ROPER, More’s son-in-law
LADY	MORE, his wife
ROPER’S	WIFE, one of More’s daughters More’s OTHER DAUGHTER CATESBY, More’s steward GOUGH, More’s secretary Doctor Fisher, Bishop of ROCHESTER DOWNES, another sergeant-at-arms
LIEUTENANT	of the Tower A GENTLEMAN PORTER of the Tower The HANGMAN A poor WOMAN, a client of More Other SHERIFFS
CLERK	of the Council
OFFICERS	Lords, Ladies, Gentlemen, Aldermen, Citizens, Prentices, Servingmen, Warders of the Tower, and Attendants
NOTE ON SPECIAL FEATURES	OF PRESENTATION Complexities in the manuscript have led to the following modifications of standard Oxford Shakespeare presentation. Rules across the column show where the text switches from the Original Text to a revision and back, or from one revision to another. Notes in the right margin above and below these rules specify the section of the manuscript and the hand. Annotations in a second hand are preserved and printed in a special typeface. Passages in the manuscript explicitly or implicitly deleted are underlined in this edition, except where the final text as edited duplicates the deleted text (see Appendix B). Identifiable interventions by second hands are as follows: Tilney: in Sc. 1, Sc. 3, Sc. 10. Playhouse book-keeper: in Sc. 4, Sc. 6 (Addition II and 1. 234), Sc. 9. Dekker: phrase at 8.232-3. Heywood(?): addition of Clown’s part in Sc. 6 and Sc. 7. Angle brackets 〈 〉 indicate gaps in the text due to damage to the manuscript.
(didascalia)	Stage directions reflect the wording of the manuscript unless enclosed in special brackets .
NOTE ON SPECIAL FEATURES	The Book of Sir Thomas More [Original Text (monday)] [Tilney] Leave out the insurrection wholly and the cause thereof, and begin with Sir Thomos More at the Mayor’s sessions, with a report afterwards of his good service done being Sheriff of London upon a mutiny against the Lombards—only by a short report, and not otherwise, at your own perils. E. Tilney. Sc. 1
(didascalia)	Enter at one end John Lincoln with George Betts and Clown Betts together. At the other end enters Francis de Barde and Doll, a lusty woman, he hauling her by the arm
DOLL	Whither wilt thou haul me?
BARDE	Whither I please. Thou art my prize, and I plead purchase of thee.
DOLL	Purchase of me? Away, ye rascal! I am an honest, plain carpenter’s wife, and, though I have no beauty to like a husband, yet whatsoever is mine scorns to stoop to a stranger. Hand off then when I bid theel
BARDE	Go with me quietly, or I’ll compel thee.
DOLL	Compel me, ye dog’s face? Thou think‘st thou hast the goldsmith’s wife in hand, whom thou enticed’st from her husband with all his plate, and when thou turned‘st her home to him again mad’st him, like an ass, pay for his wife’s board.
BARDE	So will I make thy husband too, if please me.
(didascalia)	Enter Cavelier, with a pair of doves, Williamson the carpenter and Sherwin following him
DOLL	Here he comes himself. Tell him so if thou dar’st.
CAVELIER	[to Williamson] Follow me no further. I say thou shalt not have them.
WILLIAMSON	I bought them in Cheapside, and paid my money for them.
SHERWIN	He did, sir, indeed, and you offer him wrong, both to take them from him and not restore him his money neither.
CAVELIER	If he paid for them, let it suffice that I possess them. Beefs and brewis may serve such hinds. Are pigeons meat for a coarse carpenter?
LINCOLN	[ aside to George Betts] It is hard when Englishmen’s patience must be thus jetted on by strangers, and they not dare to revenge their own wrongs.
GEORGE BETTS	[aside to Lincoln] Lincoln, let’s beat them down, and bear no more of these abuses.
LINCOLN	[aside to George Betts] We may not, Betts. Be patient and hear more.
DOLL	How now, husband? What, one stranger take thy food from thee, and another thy wife? By’r Lady, flesh and blood, I think, can hardly brook that.
LINCOLN	Will this gear never be otherwise? Must these wrongs be thus endured?
GEORGE BETTS	Let us step in, and help to revenge their injury.
BARDE	What art thou that talkest of revenge? My Lord Ambassador shall once more make your Mayor have a check if he punish thee not for this saucy presumption.
WILLIAMSON	Indeed my Lord Mayor on the Ambassador’s complaint sent me to Newgate one day because, against my will, I took the wall of a stranger. You may do anything. The goldsmith’s wife, and mine now, must be at your commandment.
GEORGE BETTS	The more patient fools are ye both to suffer it.
BARDE	Suffer it? Mend it thou or he if ye can or dare. I tell thee, fellow, an she were the Mayor of London’s wife, had I her once in my possession I would keep her in spite of him that durst say nay.
GEORGE BETTS	I tell thee, Lombard, these words should cost thy best cap, were I not curbed by duty and obedience. The Mayor of London’s wife? O God, shall it be thus?
DOLL	Why, Betts, am not I as dear to my husband as my Lord Mayor’s wife to him, [ to Williamson] and wilt thou so neglectly suffer thine own shame? [To de Barde ] Hands off, proud stranger, or, by Him that bought me, if men’s milky hearts dare not strike a stranger, yet women will beat them down ere they bear these abuses. BARDE Mistress, I say you shall along with me.
DOLL	Touch not Doll Williamson, lest she lay thee along on God’s dear earth. (To Cavelier) And you, sir, that allow such coarse cates to carpenters, whilst pigeons which they pay for must serve your dainty appetite: deliver them back to my husband again, or I’ll call so many women to mine assistance as we’ll not leave one inch untorn of thee. If our husbands must be bridled by law, and forced to bear your wrongs, their wives will be a little lawless, and soundly beat ye.
CAVELIER	Come away, de Barde, and let us go complain to my Lord Ambassador. Exeunt both
DOLL	Ay, go, and send him among us, and we’ll give him his welcome too. I am ashamed that free-born Englishmen, having beaten strangers within their own bounds, should thus be braved and abused by them at home.
SHERWIN	It is not our lack of courage in the cause, but the strict obedience that we are bound to. I am the goldsmith whose wrongs you talked of; but how to redress yours or mine own is a matter beyond all our abilities.
LINCOLN	Not so, not so, my good friends. I, though a mean man, a broker by profession, and named John Lincoln, have long time winked at these vile enormities with mighty impatience, and, as these two brethren here, Bettses by name, can witness, with loss of mine own life would gladly remedy them.
GEORGE BETTS	And he is in a good forwardness, I tell ye, if all hit right.
DOLL	As how, I prithee? Tell it to Doll Williamson.
LINCOLN	You know the Spital sermons begin the next week. I have drawn a bill of our wrongs, and the strangers’ insolencies.
GEORGE BETTS	Which he means the preachers shall there openly publish in the pulpit.
WILLIAMSON	O, but that they would! I’faith, it would tickle our strangers thoroughly.
DOLL	Ay, and if you men durst not undertake it, before God, we women will. Take an honest woman from her husband? Why, it is intolerable.
(didascalia)	SHERWIN to Lincoln But how find ye the preachers affected to our proceeding?
LINCOLN	Master Doctor Standish means not to meddle with any such matter in his sermon, but Doctor Beal will do in this matter as much as a priest may do to reform it, and doubts not but happy success will ensue upon our wrongs. You shall perceive there’s no hurt in the bill. Here’s a copy of it. I pray ye, hear it.
ALL THE REST	With all our hearts. For God’s sake, read it.
LINCOLN	(reads) ‘To you all the worshipful lords and masters of this city, that will take compassion over the poor people your neighbours, and also of the great importable hurts, losses, and hindrances whereof proceedeth extreme poverty to all the King’s subjects that inhabit within this city and suburbs of the same. For so it is that aliens and strangers eat the bread from the fatherless children, and take the living from all the artificers, and the intercourse from all merchants, whereby poverty is so much increased that every man bewaileth the misery of other; for craftsmen be brought to beggary, and merchants to neediness. Wherefore, the premises considered, the redress must be of the commons, knit and united to one part. And as the hurt and damage grieveth all men, so must all men set to their willing power for remedy, and not suffer the said aliens in their wealth, and the natural-born men of this region to come to confusion.’
DOLL	Before God, ’tis excellent, and I’ll maintain the suit to be honest.
SHERWIN	Well, say ’tis read, what is your further meaning in the matter?
GEORGE BETTS	What? Marry, list to me. No doubt but this will store us with friends enough, whose names we will closely keep in writing, and on May Day next in the morning we’ll go forth a-Maying, but make it the worst May Day for the strangers that ever they saw. How say ye? Do ye subscribe, or are ye faint-hearted revolters?
DOLL	Hold thee, George Betts, there’s my hand and my heart. By the Lord, I’ll make a captain among ye, and do somewhat to be talked of for ever after.
WILLIAMSON	My masters, ere we part let’s friendly go and drink together, and swear true secrecy upon our lives.
GEORGE BETS	There spake an angel. Come, let us along then.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
GEORGE BETS	Sc. 2
(didascalia)	An arras is drawn, and behind it, as in sessions, sit the Lord Mayor, Justice Suresby, and other Justices, and the Recorder, Sheriff More and the other Sheriff sitting by. Smart is the plaintiff, Lifter the prisoner at the bar
LORD MAYOR	Having dispatched our weightier businesses, We may give ear to petty felonies. Master Sheriff More, what is this fellow?
MORE	My lord, he stands indicted for a purse. He hath been tried; the jury is together.
LORD MAYOR	Who sent him in?
SURESBY	That did I, my lord. Had he had right, he had been hanged ere this, The only captain of the cutpurse crew.
LORD MAYOR	What is his name?
SURESBY	As his profession is: Lifter, my lord, One that can lift a purse right cunningly.
LORD MAYOR	And is that he accuses him?
SURESBY	The same, my lord, whom, by your honour’s leave, I must say somewhat too, because I find In some respects he is well worthy blame.
LORD MAYOR	Good Master Justice Suresby, speak your mind. We are well pleased to give you audience.
SURESBY	Hear me, Smart. Thou art a foolish fellow. If Lifter be convicted by the law, As I see not how the jury can acquit him, I’ll stand to’t thou art guilty of his death.
(didascalia)	MORE to the Lord Mayor
SURESBY	My lord, that’s worth the hearing.
LORD MAYOR	Listen then, good Master More.
(didascalia)	SURESBY to Smart
LORD MAYOR	I tell thee plain, it is a shame for thee With such a sum to tempt necessity. No less than ten pounds, sir, will serve your turn To carry in your purse about with ye, To crack and brag in taverns of your money? I promise ye, a man that goes abroad With an intent of truth, meeting such a booty, May be provoked to that he never meant. What makes so many pilferers and felons But such fond baits that foolish people lay To tempt the needy miserable wretch? Ten pounds odd money, this is a pretty sum To bear about, which were more safe at home. Lord Mayor and More whisper ‘Fore God, ’twere well to fine ye as much more, To the relief of the poor prisoners, To teach ye be more careful of your own. ( ) rightly served. ( )
MORE	Good my lord, sooth a ( ) for once, Only to try conclusions in this case.
LORD MAYOR	Content, good Master More. We’ll rise a while, And till the jury can return their verdict Walk in the garden. How say ye, justices?
ALL JUSTICES	We like it well, my lord; we’ll follow ye.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lord Mayor and Justices
MORE	Nay, plaintiff, go you too. Exit Smart And officers, Stand you aside, and leave the prisoner To me a while.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but More and Lifter
MORE	Lifter, come hither.
LIFTER	What is your worship’s pleasure?
MORE	Sirrah, you know that you are known to me, And I have often saved ye from this place Since first I came in office. Thou seest beside That Justice Suresby is thy heavy friend, For all the blame that he pretends to Smart For tempting thee with such a sum of money. I tell thee what: devise me but a means To pick or cut his purse, and on my credit, And as I am a Christian and a man, I will procure thy pardon for that jest.
LIFTER	Good Master Sheriff, seek not my overthrow. You know, sir, I have many heavy friends, And more indictments like to come upon me. You are too deep for me to deal withal. You are known to be one of the wisest men That is in England. I pray ye, Master Sheriff, Go not about to undermine my life.
MORE	Lifter, I am true subject to my king. Thou much mistak’st me, and for thou shalt not think I mean by this to hurt thy life at all, I will maintain the act when thou hast done it. Thou knowest there are such matters in my hands As, if I pleased to give them to the jury, I should not need this way to circumvent thee. All that I aim at is a merry jest. Perform it, Lifter, and expect my best.
LIFTER	I thank your worship, God preserve your life! But Master Justice Suresby is gone in. I know not how to come near where he is.
MORE	Let me alone for that. I’ll be thy setter. I’ll send him hither to thee presently, Under the colour of thine own request Of private matters to acquaint him with.
LIFTER	If ye do, sir, then let me alone. Forty to one but then his purse is gone.
MORE	Well said; but see that thou diminish not One penny of the money, but give it me. It is the cunning act that credits thee.
LIFTER	I will, good Master Sheriff, I assure thee. Exit More I see the purpose of this gentleman Is but to check the folly of the Justice For blaming others in a desperate case, Wherein himself may fall as soon as any. To save my life it is a good adventure. Silence there, hol Now doth the Justice enter.
(didascalia)	Enter Justice Suresby
SURESBY	Now, sirrah, now, what is your will with me? Wilt thou discharge thy conscience, like an honest man? What sayst to me, sirrah? Be brief, be brief.
LIFTER	As brief, sir, as I can. (Aside) If ye stand fair, I will be brief anon.
SURESBY	Speak out and mumble not. What sayst thou, sirrah?
LIFTER	Sir, I am charged, as God shall be my comfort, With more than’s true—
SURESBY	Sir, sir, ye are indeed, with more than’s true, For you are flatly charged with felony. You’re charged with more than truth, and that is theft: More than a true man should be charged withal. Thou art a varlet; that’s no more than true. Trifle not with me, do not, do not, sirrah. Confess but what thou knowest; I ask no more.
LIFTER	There be, sir—there be, if’t shall please your worship—
SURESBY	‘There be’, varlet? What be there, tell me what there be? Come off or on ‘there be’, what be there, knave?
LIFTER	There be, sir, divers very cunning fellows That while you stand and look them in the face Will have your purse.
SURESBY	Thou’rt an honest knave. Tell me, what are they, where they may be caught. Ay, those are they I look for.
LIFTER	You talk of me, sir— Alas, I am a puny. There’s one, indeed, Goes by my name; he puts down all for purses
SURESBY	Be as familiar as thou wilt, my knave. ’Tis this I long to know.
LIFTER	(aside) And you shall have your longing ere ye go.— This fellow, sir, perhaps will meet ye thus,
(didascalia)	Action of greeting him
LIFTER	Or thus, or thus, and in kind compliment Pretend acquaintance, somewhat doubtfully, And these embraces serve.
SURESBY	(shrugging gladly) Ay, marry, Lifter, wherefore serve they?
LIFTER	Only to feel Whether you go full under sail or no, Or that your lading be aboard your barque.
SURESBY	In plainer English, Lifter, if my purse Be stored or no?
LIFTER	Ye have it, sir.
SURESBY	Excellent, excellent!
LIFTER	Then, sir, you cannot but for manners’ sake Walk on with him, for he will walk your way, Alleging either you have much forgot him, Or he mistakes you.
SURESBY	But in this time has he my purse or no?
(didascalia)	Not yet, sir, fie! Aside No, nor I have not yours.—
(didascalia)	He takes Suresby’s purse.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Mayor, Justices, and the Recorder; Sheriff
(didascalia)	More and the other Sheriff
LIFTER	But now we must forbear; my lords return.
SURESBY	A murrain on’t! Lifter, we’ll more anon. Ay, thou sayst true: there are shrewd knaves indeed. He sits down But let them gull me, widgeon me, rook me, fop me, I‘faith, i’faith, they are too short for me. Knaves and fools meet when purses go. Wise men look to their purses well enough.
MORE	(aside) Lifter, is it done?
LIFTER	(aside) Done, Master Sheriff, and there it is.
(didascalia)	He gives Suresby’s purse to More
MORE	(aside) Then build upon my word, I’ll save thy life.
RECORDER	Lifter, stand to the bar. 150 The jury have returned thee guilty; thou must die. According to the custom, look to it, Master Sheriff.
LORD MAYOR	Then, gentlemen, as you are wont to do, Because as yet we have no burial place, What charity your meaning’s to bestow 155 Toward burial of the prisoners now condemned, Let it be given. There is first for me.
RECORDER	And there’s for me.
ANOTHER	And me.
SURESBY	Body of me, My purse is gone!
MORE	Gone, sir? What, here? How can that be?
LORD MAYOR	Against all reason: sitting on the bench? 160
SURESBY	Lifter, I talked with you; you have not lifted me, ha?
LIFTER	Suspect ye me, sir? O, what a world is this!
MORE	But hear ye, Master Suresby. Are ye sure Ye had a purse about ye?
SURESBY	Sure, Master Sheriff, as sure as you are there; 165 And in it seven pounds odd money, on my faith.
MORE	Seven pounds odd money? What, were you so mad, Being a wise man, and a magistrate, To trust your purse with such a liberal sum? Seven pounds odd money? Fore God, it is a shame 170 With such a sum to tempt necessity. I promise ye, a man that goes abroad With an intent of truth, meeting such a booty, May be provoked to that he never thought. What makes so many pilferers and felons 175 But these fond baits that foolish people lay To tempt the needy, miserable wretch? Should he be taken now that has your purse, I’d stand to‘t, you are guilty of his death; For, questionless, he would be cast by law. ’Twere a good deed to fine ye as much more, To the relief of the poor prisoners, To teach ye lock your money up at home.
SURESBY	Well, Master More, you are a merry man. I find ye, sir, I find ye well enough.
MORE	Nay, ye shall see, sir, trusting thus your money, And Lifter here in trial for like case, But that the poor man is a prisoner, It would be now suspected that he had it. Thus may ye see what mischief often comes By the fond carriage of such needless sums.
LORD MAYOR	Believe me, Master Suresby, this is strange, You being a man so settled in assurance Will fall in that which you condemned in other.
MORE	Well, Master Suresby, there’s your purse again, And all your money. Fear nothing of More. Wisdom still ( ) the door. [Exeunt] Sc. 3
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Shrewsbury and Surrey, Sir Thomas Palmer, and Sir Roger Cholmley
MORE	Mend this:
SHREWSBURY	My lord of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Palmer, Might I with patience tempt your grave advice? I tell ye true, that in these dangerous times I do not like this frowning vulgar brow. My searching eye did never entertain A more distracted countenance of grief Than I have late observed In the displeased commons of the city.
SURREY	’Tis strange, that from his princely clemency So well a tempered mercy and a grace To all the aliens in this fruitful land, That this high-crested insolence should spring From them that breathe from his majestic bounty, That, fattened with the traffic of our country, Already leap into his subjects’ face.
PALMER	Yet Sherwin hindered to commence his suit Against de Barde, by the Ambassador By supplication made unto the King; Who, having first enticed away his wife And got his plate, near worth four hundred pound, To grieve some wronged citizens that found This vile disgrace oft cast into their teeth, Of late sues Sherwin, and arrested him For money for the boarding of his wife.
SURREY	The more knave Barde, that, using Sherwin’s goods, Doth ask him interest for the occupation. I like not that, my lord of Shrewsbury. He’s ill bestead that lends a well-paced horse Unto a man that will not find him meat.
CHOLMLEY	My lord of Surrey will be pleasant still.
PALMER	I being then employed by your honours To stay the broil that fell about the same, Where by persuasion I enforced the wrongs And urged the grief of the displeased city, He answered me, and with a solemn oath, That if he had the Mayor of London’s wife He would keep her, in despite of any English man.
SURREY	’Tis good, Sir Thomas, then, for you and me Your wife is dead, and I a bachelor. If no man can possess his wife alone, I am glad, Sir Thomas Palmer, I have none.
CHOLMLEY	If a take my wife, a shall find her meat.
SURREY	And reason good, Sir Robert Cholmley, too: If these hot Frenchmen needsly will have sport, They should in kindness yet defray the charge. ’Tis hard when men possess our wives in quiet, And yet leave us in to discharge their diet.
SHREWSBURY	My lord, our caters shall not use the market For our provision but some stranger Lombard now Will take the victuals from him he hath bought. A carpenter, as I was late informed, Who having bought a pair of doves in Cheap, Immediately a Frenchman Lombard took them from him, And beat the poor man for resisting him; And when the fellow did complain his wrongs He was severely punished for his labour.
SURREY	But if the English blood be once but up, As I perceive their hearts already full, I fear me much, before their spleens be cooled, Some of these saucy aliens for their pride 60 Will pay for’t soundly, wheresoe’er it lights. This tide of rage that with the eddy strives, I fear me much, will drown too many lives.
CHOLMLEY	Now afore God, your honours, pardon me. Men of your place and greatness are to blame- 65 I tell ye true, my lords-in that his majesty Is not informed of this base abuse, And daily wrongs are offered to his subjects; For if he were, I know his gracious wisdom Would soon redress it.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
CHOLMLEY	SfIREWSBURY Sirrah, what news?
CHOLMLEY	None good, I fear.
MESSENGER	My lord, ill news; and worse, I fear, will follow If speedily it be not looked unto. The city is in an uproar, and the Mayor Is threatened if he come out of his house. A number, poor artifices [CHOLMLEY] ’Twas to be feared what this would come unto. This follows on the Doctor’s publishing The bill of wrongs in public at the Spital.
SHREWSBURY	That Doctor Beal may chance beshrew himself For reading of the bill.
PALMER	Let us go gather forces to the Mayor For quick suppressing this rebellious rout.
SURREY	Now I bethink myself of Master More, One of the sheriffs, a wise and learned gentleman, And in especial favour with the people. He, backed with other grave and sober men, May by his gentle and persuasive speech Perhaps prevail more than we can with power.
SHREWSBURY	Believe me but your honour well advises. Let us make haste, or I do greatly fear Some to their graves this morning’s work will bear.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
SHREWSBURY	Sc. 4 Enter Lincoln, Betts, Williamson, Doll.
(didascalia)	Enter Lincoln, [George] Betts, [Clown Betts,] Williamson, Sherwin, and other, armed; Doll in a shirt of mail, a headpiece, sword and buckler; a crew attending
SHREWSBURY	[Original Text (Munday)] [Addition Il (Heywood)]
CLOWN BETTS	Come, come, we’ll tickle their turnips, we’ll butter their boxes! Shall strangers rule the roast? Yes, but we’ll baste the roast. Come, come, aflaunt, aflaunt!
GEORGE BETTS	Brother, give place, and hear John Lincoln speak.
CLOWN BETTS	Ay, Lincoln, my leader, And Doll, my true breeder, With the rest of our crew Shall ran-tan-tarra-ran. Do all they what they can, Shall we be bobbed, braved?—No! Shall we be held under?—No) We are free born And do take scorn To be used so.
DOLL	Peace there, I say! Hear Captain Lincoln speak. Keep silence till we know his mind at large.
CLOWN BETTS	[to Lincoln] Then largely deliver. Speak, bully, and he that presumes to interrupt thee in thy oration, this for him!
LINCOLN	Then gallant bloods, you whose free souls do scorn To bear the enforced wrongs of aliens, Add rage to resolution. Fire the houses Of these audacious strangers. This is St Martin’s, And yonder dwells Meautis, a wealthy Picardy, At the Green Gate; De Barde, Peter van Hollak, Adrian Martin, With many more outlandish fugitives. Shall these enjoy more privilege than we In our own country? Let’s then become their slaves. Since justice keeps not them in greater awe, We’ll be ourselves rough ministers at law.
CLOWN BETTS	Use no more swords, Nor no more words, But fire the houses, Brave Captain Courageous, Fire me their houses.
DOLL	Ay, for we may as well make bonfires on May Day as at Midsummer. We’ll alter the day in the calendar, and set it down in flaming letters.
SHERWIN	Stay, no, that would much endanger the whole city, Whereto I would not the least prejudice.
DOLL	No, nor I neither: so may mine own house be burned for company. I’ll tell ye what: we’ll drag the strangers into Moorfields, and there bumbaste them till they stink again.
CLOWN BETTS	And that’s soon done, for they smell for fear already.
GEORGE BETTS	Let some of us enter the strangers’ houses, And, if we find them there, then bring them forth.
DOLL	But if ye bring them forth ere ye find them, I’ll ne’er allow of that. so
CLOWN BETTS	Now Mars for thy honour, Dutch or French, So it be a wench, I’ll upon her. [Exeunt Sherwin, Clown Betts, and others]
LINCOLN WILLIAMSON	Now, lads, how shall we labour in our safety? I hear the Mayor hath gathered men in arms, And that Sheriff More an hour ago received Some of the Privy Council in at Ludgate. Force now must make our peace, or else we fall. ’Twill soon be known we are the principal.
DOLL	And what of that? If thou beest afraid, husband, go home again and hide thy head, for, by the Lord, I’ll have a little sport now we are at it.
GEORGE BETTS	Let’s stand upon our swords, and if they come Receive them as they were our enemies.
(didascalia)	Enter Sherwin, [Clown Betts,] and the rest
CLOWN BETTS	A purchase, a purchase! We have found, we ha’ found—
DOLL	What?
CLOWN BETTS	Nothing. Not a French Fleming nor a Fleming French to be found, but all fled, in plain English.
(didascalia)	LINCOLN to Sherwin
CLOWN BETTS	How now, have you found any?
SHERWIN	No, not one, they’re all fled.
LINCOLN	Then fire the houses, that, the Mayor being busy About the quenching of them, we may scape. Burn down their kennels! Let us straight away, Lest this day prove to us an ill May Day.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Clown
CLOWN BETTS	Fire, fire! I’ll be the first. If hanging come, ’tis welcome; that’s the worst.
(didascalia)	Exit
CLOWN BETTS	[Addition II (Heywood)] [Addition II (playhouse scribe)] Sc. 5
(didascalia)	Enter at one door Sir Thomas More and Lord Mayor; at another door Sir John Munday, hurt
LORD MAYOR	What, Sir John Munday, are you hurt?
SIR JOHN	A little knock, my lord. There was even now A sort of prentices playing at cudgels. I did command them to their masters’ houses, But one of them, backed by the other crew, Wounded me in the forehead with his cudgel; And now, I fear me, they are gone to join With Lincoln, Sherwin, and their dangerous train.
MORE	The captains of this insurrection Have ta‘en themselves to arms, and came but now To both the Counters, where they have released Sundry indebted prisoners, and from thence I hear that they are gone into St Martin’s, Where they intend to offer violence To the amazed Lombards. Therefore, my lord, If we expect the safety of the city, ’Tis time that force or parley do encounter With these displeased men.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
LORD MAYOR	How now, what news?
MESSENGER	My lord, the rebels have broke open Newgate, From whence they have delivered many prisoners, zo Both felons and notorious murderers That desperately cleave to their lawless train.
LORD MAYOR	Up with the drawbridge! Gather some forces To Cornhill and Cheapside. And, gentlemen, If diligence be used on every side, A quiet ebb will follow this rough tide.
(didascalia)	Enter Shrewsbury, Surrey, Palmer; Cholmley
SHREWSBURY	Lord Mayor, his majesty, receiving notice Of this most dangerous insurrection, Hath sent my lord of Surrey and myself, Sir Thomas Palmer, and our followers To add unto your forces our best means For pacifying of this mutiny. In God’s name, then, set on with happy speed. The King laments if one true subject bleed.
SURREY	I hear they mean to fire the Lombards’ houses. O power, what art thou in a madman’s eyes! Thou mak’st the plodding idiot bloody-wise.
MORE	My lords, I doubt not but we shall appease With a calm breath this flux of discontent.
PALMER	To call them to a parley questionless May fall out good. ’Tis well said, Master More.
MORE	Let’s to these simple men, for many sweat Under this act that knows not the law’s debt Which hangs upon their lives. For silly men Plod on they know not how; like a fool’s pen That, ending, shows not any sentence writ Linked but to common reason or slightest wit. These follow for no harm, but yet incur Self penalty with those that raised this stir. I’ God’s name on, to calm our private foes With breath of gravity, not dangerous blows.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
MORE	Sc. 6
(didascalia)	Enter Lincoln, Doll, Clown [Betts,] George Betts, Williamson, [Sherwin,] others: [Citizens,] [armed]
MORE	[Addition II (playhouse scribe)] [Addition II (Shakespeare)]
LINCOLN	Peace, hear me! He that will not see a red herring at a Harry groat, butter at eleven pence a pound, meal at nine shillings a bushel, and beef at four nobles a stone, list to me.
OTHER GEORGE BETTS	It will come to that pass if strangers be suffered. Mark him.
LINCOLN	Our country is a great eating country; argo they eat more in our country than they do in their own.
OTHER CLOWN BETTS	By a halfpenny loaf a day, troy weight.
LINCOLN	They bring in strange roots, which is merely to the undoing of poor prentices. For what’s a sorry parsnip to a good heart?
OTHER WILLIAMSON	Trash, trash. They breed sore eyes, and ’tis enough to infect the city with the palsy.
LINCOLN	Nay, it has infected it with the palsy, for these bastards of dung—as you know, they grow in dung—have infected us, and it is our infection will make the city shake. Which partly comes through the eating of parsnips.
CLOWN BETTS	True, and pumpkins together.
(didascalia)	Enter a Sergeant-at-arms
SERGEANT	What say ye to the mercy of the King? Do you refuse it?
LINCOLN	You would have us upon th’ hip, would you? No, marry, do we not. We accept of the King’s mercy, but we will show no mercy upon the strangers.
SERGEANT	You are the simplest things that ever stood In such a question.
LINCOLN	How say you now, prentices? Prentices ‘simple’? Down with him!
ALL CITIZENS	Prentices simple? Prentices simple?
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Mayor, Surrey, Shrewsbury, [More, Palmer]
MAYOR	Hold, in the King’s name, hold!
SURREY	Friends, masters, countrymen—
LORD MAYOR	Peace ho, peace! I charge you keep the peace.
SHREWSBURY	My masters, countrymen—
WILLIAMSON	The noble Earl of Shrewsbury! Let’s hear him.
GEORGE BETTS	We’ll hear the Earl of Surrey.
LINCOLN	The Earl of Shrewsbury!
GEORGE BEETS	We’ll hear both.
ALL CITIZENS	Both, both, both, both!
LINCOLN	Peace, I say, peace! Are you men of wisdom, or what are you?
SURREY	What you will have them, but not men of wisdom.
SOME CITIZENS	We’ll not hear my lord of Surrey.
OTHER CITIZENS	No, no, no, no, no! Shrewsbury, Shrewsbury!
MORE	Whiles they are o’er the bank of their obedience Thus will they bear down all things.
LINCOLN	Sheriff More speaks. Shall we hear Sheriff More speak?
DOLL	Let’s hear him. A keeps a plentiful shrievaltry, and a made my brother, Arthur Watchins, Sergeant Safe’s yeoman. Let’s hear Sheriff More!
ALL CITIZENS	Sheriff More, More, More, Sheriff More!
MORE	Even by the rule you have among yourselves, Command still audience.
SOME CITIZENS	Surrey, Surrey!
OTHER CITIZENS	More, More!
LINCOLN	and GEORGE BETTS Peace, peace, silence, peace!
MORE	You that have voice and credit with the number, Command them to a stillness.
LINCOLN	A plague on them, they will not hold their peace. The devil cannot rule them.
MORE	Then what a rough and riotous charge have you To lead those that the devil cannot rule.— Good masters, hear me speak.
DOLL	Ay, by th’ mass will we, More. Thou’rt a good housekeeper, and I thank thy good worship for my brother Arthur Watchins.
ALL THE OTHER CITIZENS	Peace, peace!
MORE	Look what you do offend you cry upon; That is, the peace. Not one of you here present, Had there such fellows lived when you were babes That could have topped the peace as now you would, The peace wherein you have till now grown up Had been ta’en from you, and the bloody times Could not have brought you to the state of men. Alas, poor things! What is it you have got Although we grant you get the thing you seek?
GEORGE BETTS	Marry, the removing of the strangers, which cannot choose but much advantage the poor handicrafts of the city.
MORE	Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise Hath chid down all the majesty of England. Imagine that you see the wretched strangers, Their babies at their backs, with their poor luggage, Plodding to th’ ports and coasts for transportation, And that you sit as kings in your desires, Authority quite silenced by your brawl, And you in ruff of your opinions clothed: What had you got? I’ll tell you: you had taught How insolence and strong hand should prevail, How order should be quelled. And by this pattern Not one of you should live an aged man; For other ruffians, as their fancies wrought, With selfsame hand, self reasons, and self right, Would shark on you, and men, like ravenous fishes, Would feed on one another.
DOLL	Before God, that’s as true as the gospel.
LINCOLN	Nay, this’ a sound fellow, I tell you. Let’s mark him.
MORE	Let me set up before your thoughts, good friends, One supposition, which if you will mark You shall perceive how horrible a shape Your innovation bears. First, ‘tis a sin Which oft th’apostle did forewarn us of, Urging obedience to authority; And ‘twere no error if I told you all You were in arms ’gainst God.
ALL CITIZENS	Marry, God forbid thatl
MORE	Nay, certainly you are. no For to the king God hath His office lent Of dread, of justice, power, and command; Hath bid him rule, and willed you to obey. And, to add ampler majesty to this, He hath not only lent the king His figure, His throne and sword, but given him His own name: Calls him a god on earth. What do you, then, Rising ‘gainst him that God Himself installs, But rise ’gainst God? What do you to your souls In doing this? O, desperate as you are, Wash your foul minds with tears, and those same hands That you, like rebels, lift against the peace, Lift up for peace; and your unreverent knees, Make them your feet. To kneel to be forgiven Is safer wars than ever you can make Whose discipline is riot. In, in, to your obedience! Why, even your hurly Cannot proceed but by obedience. Tell me but this: What rebel captain, As mutinies are incident, by his name Can still the rout? Who will obey a traitor? Or how can well that proclamation sound When there is no addition but ‘a rebel’ To qualify a rebel? You’ll put down strangers, Kill them, cut their throats, possess their houses, And lead the majesty of law in lyam To slip him like a hound. Alas, alas! Say now the King, As he is clement if th’offender mourn, Should so much come too short of your great trespass As but to banish you: whither would you go? What country, by the nature of your error, Should give you harbour? Go you to France or Flanders, To any German province, Spain or Portugal, Nay, anywhere that not adheres to England: Why, you must needs be strangers. Would you be pleased To find a nation of such barbarous temper That, breaking out in hideous violence, Would not afford you an abode on earth, Whet their detested knives against your throats, Spurn you like dogs, and like as if that God Owed not nor made not you, nor that the elements Were not all appropriate to your comforts, But chartered unto them? What would you think To be thus used? This is the strangers’ case, And this your mountainish inhumanity.
ALL CITIZENS	Faith, a says true. Let us do as we may be done by.
ALL CITIZENS LINCOLN	We’ll be ruled by you, Master More, if you’ll stand our friend to procure our pardon.
MORE	Submit you to these noble gentlemen, Entreat their mediation to the King, Give up yourself to form, obey the magistrate, And there’s no doubt but mercy may be found If you so seek it. [Addition 11 (Shakespeare)] [Original Text (Munday)]
ALL CITIZENS	We yield, and desire his highness’ mercy. They lay by their weapons
MORE	No doubt his majesty will grant it you. But you must yield to go to several prisons Till that his highness’ will be further known.
ALL CITIZENS	Most willingly, whither you will have us.
SHREWSBURY	Lord Mayor, let them be sent to several prisons, And there, in any case, be well entreated. My lord of Surrey, please you to take horse And ride to Cheapside, where the aldermen Are with their several companies in arms. Will them to go unto their several wards, Both for the stay of further mutiny And for the apprehending of such persons As shall contend.
SURREY	I go, my noble lord.
(didascalia)	Exit
SHREWSBURY	We’ll straight go tell his highness these good news. Withal, Sheriff More, I’ll tell him how your breath Hath ransomed many a subject from sad death. Exit
LORD MAYOR	Lincoln and Sherwin, you shall both to Newgate, The rest unto the Counters.
PALMER	Go, guard them hence. A little breath well spent Cheats expectation in his fair’st event.
DOLL	Well, Sheriff More, thou hast done more with thy good words than all they could with their weapons. Give me thy hand. Keep thy promise now for the King’s pardon, or, by the Lord, I’ll call thee a plain cony-catcher.
LINCOLN	Farewell, Sheriff More. And as we yield by thee So make our peace; then thou deal’st honestly.
CLOWN BETTS	Ay, and save us from the gallows, else a deals double honestly. [The Citizens] are led away
LORD MAYOR	Master Sheriff More, you have preserved the city From a most dangerous fierce commotion. For if this limb of riot here in St Martin’s Had joined with other branches of the city That did begin to kindle, ’twould have bred Great rage. That rage much murder would have fed.
PALMER	Not steel but eloquence hath wrought this good. You have redeemed us from much threatened blood.
MORE	My lord, and brethren, what I here have spoke My country’s love and, next, the city’s care Enjoined me to; which since it thus prevails, Think God hath made weak More His instrument To thwart sedition’s violent intent. I think ’twere best, my lord, some two hours hence We meet at the Guildhall, and there determine That thorough every ward the watch be clad In armour. But especially provide That at the city gates selected men, Substantial citizens, do ward tonight, For fear of further mischief.
LORD MAYOR	It shall be so.
(didascalia)	Enter Shrewsbury
LORD MAYOR	But yon, methinks, my lord of Shrewsbury.
SHREWSBURY	My lord, his majesty sends loving thanks To you, your brethren, and his faithful subjects Your careful citizens. But Master More, to you A rougher yet as kind a salutation. Your name is yet too short. Nay, you must kneel. A knight’s creation is this knightly steel.
(didascalia)	More kneels
SHREWSBURY	Rise up Sir Thomas More.
(didascalia)	He knights More
(didascalia)	MORE rising
SHREWSBURY	I thank his highness for thus honouring me.
SHREWSBURY	This is but first taste of his princely favour, For it hath pleased his high majesty, Noting your wisdom and deserving merit, To put this staff of honour in your hand, For he hath chose you of his Privy Council.
(didascalia)	He gives More a staff of office
MORE	My lord, for to deny my sovereign’s bounty Were to drop precious stones into the heaps Whence first they came. To urge my imperfections in excuse Were all as stale as custom. No, my lord, My service is my king’s. Good reason why, Since life or death hangs on our sovereign’s eye.
LORD MAYOR	His majesty hath honoured much the city In this his princely choice.
MORE	My lord and brethren, Though I depart for court, my love shall rest 〈 〉 I now must sleep in court, sound sleeps forbear. The chamberlain to state is public care. Yet in this rising of my private blood My studious thoughts shall tend the city’s good.
(didascalia)	Enter Croft
(didascalia)	Enter Crofts
SHREWSBURY	How now, Crofts? What news?
CROFTS	My lord, his highness sends express command That a record be entered of this riot, And that the chief and capital offenders Be thereon straight arraigned; for himself intends To sit in person on the rest tomorrow At Westminster.
SHREWSBURY	Lord Mayor, you hear your charge. Come, good Sir Thomas More, to court let’s hie. You are th’appeaser of this mutiny.
MORE	My lord, farewell. New days begets new tides. Life whirls ’bout fate, then to a grave it slides.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally
MORE	Sc. 7
(didascalia)	Enter Master Sheriff, and meet a Messenger
SHERIFF	Messenger, what news?
MESSENGER	Is execution yet performed?
SHERIFF	Not yet. The carts stand ready at the stairs, And they shall presently away to Tyburn.
MESSENGER	Stay, Master Sheriff. It is the Council’s pleasure, For more example in so bad a case, A gibbet be erected in Cheapside Hard by the Standard, whither you must bring Lincoln, and those that were the chief with him, To suffer death, and that immediately.
(didascalia)	Enter Officers
SHERIFF	It shall be done, sir. Exit Messenger Officers, be speedy. Call for a gibbet, see it be erected. Others make haste to Newgate; bid them bring The prisoners hither, for they here must die. Away, I say, and see no time be slacked.
OFFICERS	We go, sir.
SHERIFF	That’s well said, fellows. Now you do your duty.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some Officers severally. Others set up the gibbet
SHERIFF	God for his pity help these troublous times! The street’s stopped up with gazing multitudes. Command our armed officers with halberds Make way for entrance of the prisoners. Let proclamation once again be made That every householder, on pain of death, Keep in his prentices, and every man Stand with a weapon ready at his door, As he will answer to the contrary.
FIRST OFFICER	I’ll see it done, sir. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter another Offices
SHERIFF	Bring them away to execution. The writ is come above two hours since. The city will be fined for this neglect.
SECOND OFFICER	There’s such a press and multitude at Newgate They cannot bring the carts unto the stairs To take the prisoners in.
SHERIFF	Then let them come on foot. We may not dally time with great command.
SECOND OFFICER	Some of the Bench, sir, think it very fit That stay be made, and give it out abroad The execution is deferred till morning; And when the streets shall be a little cleared To chain them up, and suddenly dispatch it.
(didascalia)	The prisoners are brought in, amongst them Lincoln,
(didascalia)	Doll, Williamson, Clown Betts, and Sherwin, well
(didascalia)	guarded, and the Executioner
SHERIFF	Stay, in meantime methinks they come along. See, they are coming. So, ’tis very well. Bring Lincoln there the first unto the tree.
CLOWN BETTS	Ay, for I cry lag, sir.
LINCOLN	I knew the first, sir, did belong to me. This the old proverb now complete doth make: That ‘Lincoln should be hanged for London’s sake’.
(didascalia)	I’ God’s name, let’s to work. To Executioner Fellow, dispatch.
LINCOLN	He goes up I was the foremost man in this rebellion, And I the foremost that must die for it.
DOLL	Bravely, John Lincoln, let thy death express That, as thou lived‘st a man, thou died’st no less.
LINCOLN	Doll Williamson, thine eyes shall witness it. Then to all you that come to view mine end I must confess I had no ill intent But against such as wronged us overmuch. And now I can perceive it was not fit That private men should carve out their redress Which way they list. No, learn it now by me: Obedience is the best in each degree. And, asking mercy meekly of my king, I patiently submit me to the law. But God forgive them that were cause of it; And, as a Christian, truly from my heart, I likewise crave they would forgive me too, 〈 〉 That others by example of the same Henceforth be warned to attempt the like ’Gainst any alien that repaireth hither. Fare ye well all. The next time that we meet I trust in heaven we shall each other greet. He leaps off
DOLL	Farewell, John Lincoln. Say all what they can, Thou lived‘st a good fellow, and died’st an honest man.
CLOWN BETTS	Would I were so far on my journey. The first stretch is the worst, methinks.
SHERIFF	Bring Williamson there forward.
DOLL	Good Master Sheriff, I have an earnest suit, And, as you are a man, deny’t me not.
SHERIFF	Woman, what is it? Be it in my power, Thou shalt obtain it.
DOLL	Let me die next, sir, that is all I crave. You know not what a comfort you shall bring To my poor heart to die before my husband.
SHERIFF	Bring her to death. She shall have her desire.
CLOWN BETTS	Sir, and I have a suit to you too.
SHERIFF	What is it?
CLOWN BETTS	That, as you have hanged Lincoln first and will hang her next, so you will not hang me at all.
SHERIFF	Nay, you set ope the Counter gates, and you must hang chiefly.
CLOWN BETTS	Well then, so much for that!
(didascalia)	DOLL to Sherif
CLOWN BETTS	Sir, your free bounty much contents my mind. Commend me to that good sheriff Master More, And tell him had’t not been for his persuasion John Lincoln had not hung here as he does. We would first have locked up in Leaden Hall, And there been burned to ashes with the roof.
SHERIFF	Woman, what Master More did was a subject’s duty, And hath so pleased our gracious lord the King That he is hence removed to higher place And made of Council to his majesty.
DOLL	Well is he worthy of it, by my troth: An honest, wise, well-spoken gentleman. Yet would I praise his honesty much more If he had kept his word and saved our lives. But let that pass. Men are but men, and so Words are but words, and pays not what men owe. Now, husband, since perhaps the world may say That through my means thou com’st thus to thy end, Here I begin this cup of death to thee, Because thou shalt be sure to taste no worse Than I have taken that must go before thee. What though I be a woman? That’s no matter. I do owe God a death, and I must pay him. Husband, give me thy hand. Be not dismayed. This chore being chored, then all our debt is paid. Only two little babes we leave behind us, And all I can bequeath them at this time Is but the love of some good honest friend To bring them up in charitable sort. What, masters?—He goes upright that never halts, And they may live to mend their parents’ faults.
WILLIAMSON	Why, well said, wife. I‘faith, thou cheer’st my heart. Give me thy hand. Let’s kiss, and so let’s part. He kisses her on the ladder
DOLL	The next kiss, Williamson, shall be in heaven. Now cheerly, lads! George Betts, a hand with thee.
(didascalia)	To Clown Betts And thine too, Ralph. And thine, good
DOLL	honest Sherwin. Now let me tell the women of this town No stranger yet brought Doll to lying down. So long as I an Englishman can see, Nor French nor Dutch shall get a kiss of me. And when that I am dead, for me yet say I died in scorn to be a stranger’s prey.
(didascalia)	A great shout and noise within
VOICES WITHIN	Pardon, pardon, pardon, pardon! Room for the Earl of Surreyl Room there, room!
(didascalia)	Enter Surrey
SURREY	Save the man’s life, if it be possible!
SHERIFF	It is too late, my lord, he’s dead already.
SURREY	I tell ye, Master Sheriff, you are too forward To make such haste with men unto their death. I think your pains will merit little thanks, Since that his highness is so merciful As not to spill the blood of any subject.
SHERIFF	My noble lord, would we so much had known! The Council’s warrant hastened our dispatch. It had not else been done so suddenly.
SURREY	Sir Thomas More humbly upon his knee Did beg the lives of all, since on his word They did so gently yield. The King hath granted it, And made him Lord High Chancellor of England, According as he worthily deserves. Since Lincoln’s life cannot be had again, Then for the rest, from my dread sovereign’s lips, I here pronounce free pardon for them all—
ALL	(flinging up caps) God save the King! God save the King, My good Lord Chancellor and the Earl of Surreyl
DOLL	And Doll desires it from her very heart More’s name may live for this right noble part; And whensoe’er we talk of Ill May Day Praise More, whose honest words our falls did stay.
SURREY	In hope his highness’ clemency and mercy, Which in the arms of mild and meek compassion Would rather clip you, as the loving nurse Oft doth the wayward infant, than to leave you To the sharp rod of justice; so to draw you To shun such lewd assemblies as beget Unlawful riots and such traitorous acts That, striking with the hand of private hate, Maim your dear country with a public wound. O God, that mercy, whose majestic brow Should be unwrinkled, and that awe-full justice, Which looketh through a veil of sufferance Upon the frailty of the multitude, Should with the clamours of outrageous wrongs Be stirred and wakened thus to punishment! But your deserved death he doth forgive. Who gives you life, pray all he long may live.
ALL	God save the King! God save the King, My good Lord Chancellor, and the Earl of Surreyl
(didascalia)	Exeunt
ALL	[Original Text (Munday)]
(didascalia)	[Addition III (playhouse scribe; attributed to Shakespeare)]
ALL	Sc. 8 A table being covered with a green carpet, a state cushion on it, and the purse and mace lying thereon, enter More
MORE	It is in heaven that I am thus and thus, And that which we profanely term our fortunes Is the provision of the power above, Fitted and shaped just to that strength of nature Which we are born with. Good God, good God, That I from such an humble bench of birth Should step, as ’twere, up to my country’s head, And give the law out there; I, in my father’s life, To take prerogative and tithe of knees From elder kinsmen, and him bind by my place To give the smooth and dexter way to me That owe it him by nature: sure these things, Not physicked by respect, might turn our blood To much corruption. But, More, the more thou hast, Either of honour, office, wealth, and calling, Which might accite thee to embrace and hug them, The more do thou in serpent’s natures think them, Fear their gay skins with thought of their sharp state, And let this be thy maxim: to be great Is, when the thread of hazard is once spun, A bottom great wound up, greatly undone. [Addition III (playhouse scribe; attributed to Shakespeare)] [addition IV (playhouse scribe; attributed to Dekker)]
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Thomas More’s man Randall, attired like him
MORE	Come on, sir, are you ready?
RANDALL	Yes, my lord. I stand but on a few points. I shall have done presently. Before God, I have practised your lordship’s shift so well that I think I shall grow proud, my lord.
MORE	‘Tis fit thou shouldst wax proud, or else thou’lt ne‘er Be near allied to greatness. Observe me, sirrah. The learned clerk Erasmus is arrived
(didascalia)	Within our English court. Last night, I hear,
MORE	He feasted with our English honoured poet The Earl of Surrey, and I learned today The famous clerk of Rotterdam will visit Sir Thomas More. Therefore, sir, take my seat. You are Lord Chancellor. Dress your behaviour According to my carriage. But beware You talk not overmuch, for ’twill betray thee. Who prates not much seems wise, his wit few scan, While the tongue blabs tales of the imperfect man. I’ll see if great Erasmus can distinguish Merit and outward ceremony.
RANDALL	If I do not deserve a share for playing of your lordship well, let me be yeoman usher to your sumpter and be banished from wearing of a gold chain forever.
MORE	Well, sir, I’ll hide our motion. Act my part With a firm boldness, and thou winn’st my heart.
(didascalia)	Enter the Sheriff, with Falkner (a ruffian) and Officers
MORE	How now, what’s the matter?
(didascalia)	FALKNER to Officers Tug me not; I’m no bear. ‘Sblood, if all the dogs in Paris Garden hung at my tail, I’d shake ’em off with this: that I’ll appear before no king christened but my good Lord Chancellor.
SHERIFF	We’ll christen you, sirrah.—Bring him forward.
(didascalia)	MORE to Falkner How now, what tumults make you?
FALKNER	The azured heavens protect my noble Lord Chancellor!
(didascalia)	MORE to Sheriff What fellow’s this?
SHERIFF	A ruffian, my lord, that hath set half the city in an uproar.
FALKNER	My lord—
SHERIFF	There was a fray in Paternoster Row, and because they would not be parted the street was choked up with carts.
FALKNER	My noble lord, Pannyer Alley’s throat was open.
MORE	Sirrah, hold your peace.
FALKNER	I’ll prove the street was not choked, but is as well as ever it was since it was a street.
SHERIFF	This fellow was a principal broacher of the broil—
FALKNER	’Sblood, I broached none. It was broached and half run out before I had a lick at it.
SHERIFF	And would be brought before no justice but your honour.
FALKNER	! I am hauled, my noble lord.
(didascalia)	MORE to Sheriff
FALKNER	No ear to choose for every trivial noise But mine, and in so full a time? Away. You wrong me, Master Sheriff. Dispose of him At your own pleasure. Send the knave to Newgate.
FALKNER	To Newgate? ’Sblood, Sir Thomas More, I appeal, I appeal: from Newgate to any of the two worshipful Counters.
MORE	Fellow, whose man are you that are thus lusty?
FALKNER	My name’s Jack Falkner. I serve, next under God and my prince, Master Morris, secretary to my lord of Winchester.
MORE	A fellow of your hair is very fit To be a secretary’s follower!
FALKNER	I hope so, my lord. The fray was between the Bishop’s men of Ely and Winchester, and I could not in honour but part them. I thought it stood not with my reputation and degree to come to my questions and answers before a city justice. I knew I should to the pot.
MORE	Thou hast been there, it seems, too late already.
FALKNER	I know your honour is wise, and so forth, and I desire to be only catechized or examined by you, my noble Lord Chancellor.
MORE	Sirrah, sirrah, you are a busy dangerous ruffian. FALKNER Ruffian?
MORE	How long have you worn this hair?
FALKNER	I have worn this hair ever since I was born.
MORE	You know that’s not my question: but how long Hath this shag fleece hung dangling on thy head?
FALKNER	How long, my lord? Why, sometimes thus long, sometimes lower, as the Fates and humours please.
MORE	So quick, sir, with me, ha? I see, good fellow, Thou lovest plain dealing. Sirrah, tell me now When were you last at barber’s? How long time Have you upon your head worn this shag hair?
FALKNER	My lord, Jack Falkner tells no Aesop’s fables. Troth, I was not at barber’s this three years. I have not been cut, nor will not be cut, upon a foolish vow which, as the Destinies shall direct, I am sworn to keep.
MORE	When comes that vow out?
FALKNER	Why, when the humours are purged; not these three years.
MORE	Vows are recorded in the court of heaven, For they are holy acts. Young man, I charge thee And do advise thee start not from that vow. And for I will be sure thou shalt not shear, Besides because it is an odious sight To see a man thus hairy, thou shalt lie In Newgate till thy vow and thy three years Be full expired.—Away with him.
FALKNER	My lord—
MORE	Cut off this fleece and lie there but a month.
FALKNER	I’ll not lose a hair to be Lord Chancellor of Europe.
MORE	To Newgate then. Sirrah, great sins are bred In all that body where there’s a foul head.
(didascalia)	Away with him. Exeunt all but Randall
(didascalia)	Enter Surrey, Erasmus, and attendants
SURREY	Now, great Erasmus, you approach the presence Of a most worthy learned gentleman. This little isle holds not a truer friend Unto the arts; nor doth his greatness add A feigned flourish to his worthy parts. He’s great in study: that’s the statist’s grace That gains more reverence than the outward place.
ERASMUS	Report, my lord, hath crossed the narrow seas, And to the several parts of Christendom Hath borne the fame of your Lord Chancellor. I long to see him whom with loving thoughts I in my study oft have visited. Is that Sir Thomas More?
SURREY	It is, Erasmus. Now shall you view the honourablest scholar, The most religious politician, The worthiest counsellor, that tends our state. That study is the general watch of England. In it, the Prince’s safety and the peace That shines upon our commonwealth are forged By loyal industry.
ERASMUS	I doubt him not To be as near the life of excellence As you proclaim him, when his meanest servants Are of some weight. You saw, my lord, his porter Give entertainment to us at the gate In Latin good phrase. What’s the master, then, When such good parts shine in his meanest men?
SURREY	His lordship hath some weighty business, For, see, as yet he takes no notice of us.
ERASMUS	I think ’twere best I did my duty to him In a short Latin speech.
(didascalia)	He takes off his hat and addresses Randall
ERASMUS	Qui in celeberrima patria natus est et gloriosa plus habet negotii ut in lucem veniat quam qui—
RANDALL	I prithee, good Erasmus, be covered. I have forsworn speaking of Latin else, as I am true councillor, I’d tickle you with a speech. Nay, sit, Erasmus. Sit, good my lord of Surrey. I’ll make my lady come to you anon, if she will, and give you entertainment.
ERASMUS	Is this Sir Thomas More?
SURREY	O good Erasmus, You must conceive his vein. He’s ever furnished With these conceits.
RANDALL	Yes, faith, my learned poet doth not lie for that matter. I am neither more nor less than merry Sir Thomas always. Wilt’ sup with me? By God, I love a parlous wise fellow that smells of a politician better than a long progress. Enter Sir Thomas More
SURREY	We are deluded. This is not his lordship.
RANDALL	I pray you, Erasmus, how long will the Holland cheese in your country keep without maggots?
MORE	Fool, painted barbarism, retire thyself Into thy first creation. Thus you see, My loving learned friends, how far respect Waits often on the ceremonious train Of base illiterate wealth, whilst men of schools, Shrouded in poverty, are counted fools. Pardon, thou reverend German, I have mixed So slight a jest to the fair entertainment Of thy most worthy self. For know, Erasmus, Mirth wrinkles up my face, and I still crave When that forsakes me I may hug my grave. Aut tu Erasmus aut diabolus.
ERASMUS	Your honour’s merry humour is best physic Unto your able body, for we learn Where melancholy chokes the passages Of blood and breath, the erected spirit still Lengthens our days with sportful exercise. Study should be the saddest time of life; The rest a sport exempt from thought of strife.
MORE	Erasmus preacheth gospel against physic.— My noble poet—
SURREY	O my lord, you tax me In that word ‘poet’ of much idleness. It is a study that makes poor our fate. Poets were ever thought unfit for state.
MORE	O, give not up fair poesy, sweet lord, To such contempt. That I may speak my heart, It is the sweetest heraldry of art That sets a difference ’tween the tough, sharp holly And tender bay tree.
SURREY	Yet, my lord, It is become the very lag i’ number To all mechanic sciences.
MORE	Why I’ll show the reason This is no age for poets. They should sing To the loud canon heroica facta: Qui faciunt reges heroica carmina laudant; And, as great subjects of their pen decay, Even so, unphysicked, they do melt away.
(didascalia)	Enter Master Morris
MORE	Come, will your lordship in? My dear Erasmus— I’ll hear you, Master Morris, presently.—
(didascalia)	To Erasmus My lord, I make you master of my house.
MORE	We’ll banquet here with fresh and staid delights. The Muses’ music here shall cheer our spirits. The cates must be but mean where scholars sit; For they’re made all with courses of neat wit.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Surrey, Erasmus, and attendants
MORE	How now, Master Morris?
MORRIS	I am a suitor to your lordship in behalf of a servant of mine.
MORE	The fellow with long hair, good Master Morris? Come to me three years hence, and then I’ll hear you.
MORRIS	I understand your honour; but the foolish knave has submitted himself to the mercy of a barber, and is without, ready to make a new vow before your lordship hereafter to live civil.
MORE	Nay then, let’s talk with him; pray call him in.
(didascalia)	Enter Falkner and Officers
FALKNER	Bless your honour: a new man, my lord.
MORE	Why sure this’ not he.
FALKNER	An your lordship will, the barber shall give you a sample of my head. I am he, in faith, my lord, I am ipse.
MORE	Why, now thy face is like an honest man’s. Thou hast played well at this new-cut and won.
FALKNER	No, my lord, lost all that ever God sent me.
MORE	God sent thee into the world as thou art now, with a short hair. How quickly are three years run out in Newgatel
FALKNER	I think so, my lord, for there was but a hair’s length between my going thither and so long time.
MORE	Because I see some grace in thee, go free.—
(didascalia)	Discharge him, fellows. Exeunt Officers
MORE	Farewell, Master Morris. Thy head is for thy shoulders now more fit:
(didascalia)	Thou hast less hair upon it, but more wit. exit
MORRIS	Did not I tell thee always of these locks?
FALKNER	An the locks were on again, all the goldsmiths in Cheapside should not pick them open. ’Sheart, if my hair stand not on end when I look for my face in a glass, I am a potecat.—Here’s a lousy jest.—But if I notch not that rogue Tom Barber that makes me look thus like a Brownist, hang me. I’ll be worse to the nittical knave than ten tooth-drawings. Here’s a head with a pox! [Addition IV (playhouse scribe; attributed to Dekker)] [Addition IV (Dekker)]
MORRIS	What ail’st thou? Art thou mad now?
FALKNER	Mad now? Nails, if loss of hair cannot mad a man—what can? I am deposed: my crown is taken from me. More had been better a’ scoured Moorditch than a’ notched me thus. Does he begin sheep-shearing with Jack Falkner?
MORRIS	Nay, an you feed this vein, sir, fare you well.
FALKNER	Why, farewell, frost! I’ll go hang myself out for the—poll-head. Make a Sar’cen of Jack?
MORRIS	Thou desperate knave, for that I see the devil Wholly gets hold of thee—
FALKNER	The devil’s a damned rascal.
MORRIS	I charge thee wait on me no more; no more Call me thy master.
FALKNER	Why then, a word, Master Morris.
MORRIS	I’ll hear no words, sir, fare you well.
FALKNER	’Sblood, farewelll
MORRIS	Why dost thou follow me?
FALKNER	Because I’m an ass. Do you set your shavers upon me, and then cast me off? Must I condole? Have the Fates played the fools? (Weeps) Am I their cut? Now the poor sconce is taken, must Jack march with bag and baggage?
MORRIS	You coxcomb!
FALKNER	Nay, you ha’ poached me, you ha’ given me a hire, it’s here, here.
MORRIS	Away, you kind ass. Come, sir, dry your eyes. Keep your old place, and mend these fooleries.
FALKNER	I care not to be turned off, an ’twere a ladder, so it be in my humour or the Fates beckon to me. Nay, pray, sir, if the Destinies spin me a fine thread, Falkner flies another pitch. And to avoid the headache, hereafter before I’ll be a hairmonger I’ll be a whoremonger.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
FALKNER	[Addition IV (Dekker)] [Addition V (playhouse scribe)] Sc. 9
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger to More. Messenger. T. Goodal
MESSENGER	My honourable lord, the Mayor of London Accompanied with his lady and her train Are coming hither, and are hard at hand To feast with you. A sergeant’s come before To tell your lordship of their near approach.
(didascalia)	Exit Messenger
MORE	Why, this is cheerful news. Friends go and come. Reverend Erasmus, whose delicious words Express the very soul and life of wit, Newly took sad leave of me, with tears Troubled the silver channel of the Thames, Which, glad of such a burden, proudly swelled And on her bosom bore him toward the sea. He’s gone to Rotterdam. Peace go with him! He left me heavy when he went from hence, But this recomforts me. The kind Lord Mayor, His brethren aldermen, with their fair wives Will feast this night with us. Why, so’t should be. More’s merry heart lives by good company.
(didascalia)	Enter Master Roper and Servingmen
MORE	Good gentlemen, be careful; give great charge Our diet be made dainty for the taste. For, of all people that the earth affords, The Londoners fare richest at their boards. [Addition V (playhouse scribe)] [Original Text (Munday)] Come, my good fellows, stir, be diligent. Sloth is an idle fellow. Leave him now. The time requires your expeditious service. Place me here stools to set the ladies on.
(didascalia)	Servingmen set stools
MORE	Son Roper, you have given order for the banquet?
ROPER	I have, my lord, and everything is ready.
(didascalia)	Enter Lady More
MORE	O welcome, wife. Give you direction How women should be placed; you know it best. For my Lord Mayor, his brethren, and the rest, Let me alone. Men best can order men.
LADY MORE	I warrant ye, my lord, all shall be well. There’s one without that stays to speak with ye, And bade me tell ye that he is a player.
MORE	A player, wife?—One of ye bid him come in.
(didascalia)	Exit one, [a Servingman]
MORE	Nay, stir there, fellows. Fie, ye are too slow! See that your lights be in a readiness. The banquet shall be here.—God’s me, madam, Leave my Lady Mayoress? Both of us from the board? And my son Roper too? What may our guests think?
LADY MORE	My lord, they are risen, and sitting by the fire.
MORE	Why, yet go you, and keep them company. It is not meet we should be absent both.
(didascalia)	Exit Lady
(didascalia)	Enter Player
MORE	Welcome, good friend. What is your will with me?
PLAYER	My lord, my fellows and myself Are come to tender ye our willing service, So please you to command us.
MORE	What, for a play, you mean? Whom do ye serve?
PLAYER	My Lord Cardinal’s grace.
MORE	My Lord Cardinal’s players? Now trust me, welcome. You happen hither in a lucky time To pleasure me and benefit yourselves. The Mayor of London and some aldermen, His lady, and their wives are my kind guests This night at supper. Now, to have a play Before the banquet will be excellent. How think you, son Roper?
ROPER	’Twill do well, my lord, And be right pleasing pastime to your guests.
MORE	I prithee tell me, what plays have ye?
PLAYER	Diverse, my lord: The Cradle of Security, Hit Nail o’th’ Head, Impatient Poverty, The Play of Four Ps, Dives and Lazarus, Lusty Juventus, and The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom.
MORE	The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom? That, my lads, I’ll none but that. The theme is very good, And may maintain a liberal argument. To marry wit to wisdom asks some cunning. Many have wit that may come short of wisdom. We’ll see how Master Poet plays his part, And whether wit or wisdom grace his art. Go, make him drink, and all his fellows too. How many are ye?
PLAYER	Four men and a boy, sir.
MORE	But one boy? Then I see There’s but few women in the play.
PLAYER	Three, my lord: Dame Science, Lady Vanity, And Wisdom she herself.
MORE	And one boy play them all? By‘r Lady, he’s loaden. Well, my good fellow, get ye straight together And make ye ready with what haste ye may.
(didascalia)	To Servingmen Provide their supper’gainst the play be
MORE	done, Else shall we stay our guests here overlong.
(didascalia)	To Player Make haste, I pray ye.
PLAYER	We will, my lord.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Servingmen and Player
MORE	Where are the waits? [To Roper] Go, bid them play, To spend the time a while.
(didascalia)	Enter Lady More
MORE	How now, madam?
LADY MORE	My lord, they’re coming hither.
MORE	They’re welcome. Wife, I’ll tell ye one thing. Our sport is somewhat mended: we shall have A play tonight, The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom, And acted by my good Lord Cardinal’s players. How like ye that, wife?
LADY MORE	My Lord, I like it well. See, they are coming. Waits play hautbois The waits plays. Enters Lord Mayor, so many Aldermen as may, the Lady Mayoress, in scarlet, with other ladies and Sir Thomas More’s daughters, [one of them Roper’s wife]; Servants carrying lighted torches by them
MORE	Once again, welcome, welcome, my good Lord Mayor, And brethren all—for once I was your brother, And so am still in heart. It is not state That can our love from London separate. 〈〉 〈 〉 naught but pride; But they that cast an eye still whence they came Know how they rose, and how to use the same.
LORD MAYOR	My lord, you set a gloss on London’s fame, And make it happy ever by your name. Needs must we say when we remember More, ’Twas he that drove rebellion from our door With grave discretions, mild and gentle breath, Shielding a many subjects’ lives from death. O, how our city is by you renowned, And with your virtues our endeavours crowned.
MORE	No more, my good Lord Mayor; but thanks to all That on so short a summons you would come To visit him that holds your kindness dear. [To Lady More] Madam, you are not merry with my Lady Mayoress And these fair ladies. Pray ye, seat them all. [To Lord Mayor] And here, my lord, let me appoint your place; The rest to seat themselves. Nay, I’ll weary ye; You will not long in haste to visit me.
LADY MORE	Good madam, sit. In sooth, you shall sit here.
LADY MAYORESS	Good madam, pardon me, it may not be.
LADY MORE	In troth, I’ll have it so. I’ll sit here by ye. Good ladies, sit.—More stools here, ho!
LADY MAYORESS	It is your favour, madam, makes me thus Presume above my merit.
LADY MORE	When we come to you, Then shall you rule us as we rule you here. [They sit] Now must I tell ye, madam, we have a play To welcome ye withal. How good soe’er That know not I; my lord will have it so.
MORE	Wife, hope the best; I am sure they’ll do their best. They that would better comes not at their feast. My good Lord Cardinal’s players, I thank them for it, Play us a play, to lengthen out your welcome, My good Lord Mayor and all my other friends. They say it is The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom— A theme of some import, howe’er it prove. But if art fail, we’ll inch it out with love. What, are they ready?
SERVANT	My lord, one of the players craves to speak with you.
MORE	With me? Where is he?
(didascalia)	Enter [the Player of] Inclination the Vice, ready, [with a bridle in his hand]
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Here, my lord.
MORE	How now, what’s the matter?
PLAYER	of INCLINATION We would desire your honour but to stay a little. One of my fellows is but run to Ogle’s for a long beard for young Wit, and he’ll be here presently.
MORE	A long beard for young Wit? Why, man, he may be without a beard till he come to marriage, for wit goes not all by the hair. When comes Wit in?
PLAYER	of INCLINATION In the second scene, next to the Prologue, my lord.
MORE	Why, play on till that scene come, and by that time Wit’s beard will be grown, or else the fellow returned with it. And what part play’st thou?
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Inclination, the Vice, my lord.
MORE	Gramercies, now I may take the Vice if I list. And wherefore hast thou that bridle in thy hand?
PLAYER	of INCLINATION I must be bridled anon, my lord.
MORE	An thou beest not saddled too it makes no matter, for then Wit’s Inclination may gallop so fast that he will outstrip wisdom and fall to folly.
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Indeed, so he does, to Lady Vanity; but we have no Folly in our play.
MORE	Then there’s no wit in’t, I’ll be sworn. Folly waits on wit as the shadow on the body, and where wit is ripest, there folly still is readiest. But begin, I prithee. We’ll rather allow a beardless Wit than Wit, all beard, to have no brain.
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Nay, he has his apparel on too, my lord, and therefore he is the readier to enter.
MORE	Then, good Inclination, begin at a venture.
(didascalia)	Exit Player of Inclination
MORE	My Lord Mayor, Wit lacks a beard, or else they would begin. I’d lend him mine, but that it is too thin. Silence, they come. The trumpet sounds. Enter the Prologue
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
(didascalia)	Enter Wit, ruffling, and Inclination, the Vice
WIT	[sings] In an arbour green, asleep whereas I lay— The birds sang sweetly in the midst of the day— I dreamèd 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. iso In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. Therefor 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.
(didascalia)	MORE to Lord Mayor 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	[to Wit] O 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	Ay, 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 be gone, For unto Wisdom Wit hath inclination.
INCLINATION	O sir, she will come herself even anon, For I told her before where we would stand, And then she said she would beck us with her hand. (Flourishing his dagger) Back with those boys and saucy great knaves. 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 cometh in place You must her embrace Somewhat handsomely, Lest she think it danger Because you are a stranger To come in your company.
WIT	I warrant thee, Inclination, I will be busy. O, how Wit longs to be in Wisdom’s company!
(didascalia)	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	[to Lady Vanity] What, Unknown Honesty, a word in your ear. [Lady Vanity] offers to depart You shall not be gone as yet, I swear. Here’s none but your 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 one 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? O 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 an if one said so? Let such trifling matters go, And with a kind kiss come out of her debt.
(didascalia)	Enter another Player
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Is Luggins come yet with the beard?
OTHER PLAYER	No, faith, he is not come. Alas, what shall we do?
PLAYER	of INCLINATION [to More] Forsooth, we can go no further till our fellow Luggins come, for he plays Good Counsel, and now he should enter to admonish Wit that this is Lady Vanity and not Lady Wisdom.
MORE	Nay, an 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 counsel. Till your fellow come I’ll give him the best counsel that I can. Pardon me, my Lord Mayor, I love to be merry. [He rises and joins the players]
MORE	as GOOD COUNSEL O good Master 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 Counsel, and be ruled by me.
PLAYER	of INCLINATION In troth, my lord, it is as right to Luggins’s part as can be. Speak, Wit.
MORE	Nay, we will not have our audience disappointed if I can help it.
WIT	Art thou Good Counsel, and wilt 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	as GOOD COUNSEL Wit, judge not things by the outward show. The eye oft mistakes, right well you do know. Good Counsel assures thee upon his honesty That this is not Wisdom, but Lady Vanity.
(didascalia)	Enter Luggins, with the beard
PLAYER	of INCLINATION O my lord, he is come. Now we shall go forward.
MORE	Art thou come? Well, fellow, I have holp to save thine honesty a little. Now, if thou canst give Wit any better counsel than I have done, spare not. There I leave him to thy 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. [To Servants] Prepare against we come. Lights there, I say.— Thus fools oft-times do help to mar the play.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. Players remain
PLAYER	of WIT Fie, fellow Luggins, you serve us handsomely, do ye not think ye?
JUGGINS	Why, Ogle 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.
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Do ye hear, fellows? Would not my lord make a rare player? O, he would uphold a company beyond all ho, better than Mason among the King’s players. Did ye mark how extemp’rically he fell to the matter, and spake Luggins’s part almost as it is in the very book set down?
PLAYER	of 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	Ay, that’s the best, for now we lack nothing. [Original Text (Munday)] [Addition VI (Heywood)]
(didascalia)	Enter a Servingman to the players, with a reward
SERVINGMAN	Where be these players?
ALL THE PLAYERS	Here, sir.
SERVINGMAN	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 eight angels, With many thanks. But sup before you go. It is his will you should be fairly entreated. Follow, I pray ye.
PLAYER	of 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.
PLAYER	of INCLINATION Fore God, a says true. But hear ye, sirs: eight angels, ha! My lord would never give’s eight angels. More or less, for twelve pence: either it should be three pounds, five pounds, or ten pounds, there twenty shillings wanting, sure.
PLAYER	of WIT Twenty to one, ’tis so. I have a trick. My lord comes; stand aside.
(didascalia)	Enter More with attendants, with purse and mace
MORE	In haste, to Council? What’s the business now That all so late his highness sends for me?— What seek’st thou, fellow?
PLAYER	of WIT Nay, nothing. Your lordship sent eight angels by your man, And I have lost two of them in the rushes.
MORE	Wit, look to that! Eight angels? I did send them ten. Who gave it them?
SERVINGMAN	I, my lord. I had no more about me; But by and by they shall receive the rest.
MORE	Well, Wit, ‘twas wisely done. Thou play’st Wit well indeed Not to be thus deceived of thy right. Am I a man by office truly ordained Equally to divide 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 one 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. [Exeunt More and attendants]
PLAYER	of INCLINATION God-a-mercy, Wit. [To the Servingman ] 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 yit he’s a larned man and knows what the world is. [PLAYER of INCLINATION] Well, a kind man, and more loving than many other, but I think we ha’ met with the first—
LUGGINS	First sarved his man that had our angels; and he may chance dine with Duke Humphrey tomorrow, being turned away today. Come, let’s go.
(didascalia)	[PLAYER of INCLINATION] And many such rewards would make us all ride, and horse us with the best nags in Smithfield.Exeunt
LUGGINS	[Addition VI (Heywood)] [Original Text (Munday)] Sc. 10
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Thomas More, with purse and mace borne
ROCHESTER	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
ROCHESTER	Sc. 13
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Thomas More, his Lady, Daughters, one of them Roper’s Wife, Master Roper, Gentlemen and
(didascalia)	Servants amongst them Catesby and Gough as in his house
ROCHESTER	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. 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 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)]
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt [More, Downes, and Attendants at one door, the rest at another]
MORE	Sc. 14
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
MORE	Sc. 15
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
CATESBY	Sc. 16
(didascalia)	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.
MORE	No, Master Lieutenant. I thank my God I have peace of conscience, though the world and I Are at a little odds. But we’ll be even now, I hope, Ere long. When is the execution of your warrant?
LIEUTENANT	Tomorrow morning.
MORE	So, sir, I thank ye. I have not lived so ill I fear to die. Master Lieutenant, I have had a sore fit of the stone tonight; But the King hath sent me such a rare receipt, I thank him, as I shall not need to fear it much.
LIEUTENANT	In life and death, still merry Sir Thomas More. [To Servant] Sirrah fellow, reach me the urinal. He gives it him Ha, let me see. There’s gravel in the water. And yet, in very sober truth I swear, The man were likely to live long enough, So pleased the King. Here, fellow, take it.
SERVANT	Shall I go with it to the doctor, sir?
MORE	No, save thy labour. We’ll cozen him of a fee. Thou shalt see me take a dram tomorrow morning Shall cure the stone, I warrant, doubt it not.— Master Lieutenant, what news of my lord of Rochester?
LIEUTENANT	Yesterday morning was he put to death.
MORE	The peace of soul sleep with him! He was a learned and a reverend prelate, And a rich man, believe me.
LIEUTENANT	If he were rich, what is Sir Thomas More, That all this while hath been Lord Chancellor?
MORE	Say ye so, Master Lieutenant? What do you think A man that with my time had held my place Might purchase?
LIEUTENANT	Perhaps, my lord, two thousand pound a year.
MORE	Master Lieutenant, I protest to you, I never had the means in all my life To purchase one poor hundred pound a year. I think I am the poorest chancellor That ever was in England, though I could wish, For credit of the place, that my estate were better.
LIEUTENANT	It’s very strange.
MORE	It will be found as true. I think, sir, that with most part of my coin I have purchased as strange commodities As ever you heard tell of in your life.
LIEUTENANT	Commodities, my lord? Might I without offence enquire of them?
MORE	Crutches, Master Lieutenant, and bare cloaks, For halting soldiers and poor needy scholars, Have had my gettings in the Chancery. To think but what acheat the crown shall have By my attainder! I prithee, if thou beest a gentleman, Get but a copy of my inventory. That part of poet that was given me Made me a very unthrift; For this is the disease attends us all: Poets were never thrifty, never shall.
(didascalia)	Enter Lady More, mourning, Daughters, [one of them Roper’s Wife,] Master Roper
LIEUTENANT	O noble More! My lord, your wife, your son-in-law and daughters.
MORE	Son Roper, welcome. Welcome, wife and girls. Why do you weep? Because I live at ease? Did you not see, when I was Chancellor I was so cloyed with suitors every hour I could not sleep nor dine nor sup in quiet. Here’s none of this. Here I can sit and talk With my honest keeper half a day together, Laugh and be merry. Why then should you weep?
ROPER	These tears, my lord, for this your long restraint Hope had dried up, with comfort that we yet, Although imprisoned, might have had your life.
MORE	To live in prison: what a life were that? The King, I thank him, loves me more than so. Tomorrow I shall be at liberty To go even whither I can, After I have dispatched my business.
LADY MORE	Ah husband, husband, yet submit yourself. Have care of your poor wife and children.
MORE	Wife, so I have, and I do leave you all To His protection hath the power to keep You safer than I can, The father of the widow and the orphan.
ROPER	The world, my lord, hath ever held you wise, And ’t shall be no distaste unto your wisdom To yield to the opinion of the state.
MORE	I have deceived myself, I must acknowledge; And as you say, son Roper, to confess the same It will be no disparagement at all.
LADY MORE	(offering to depart) His highness shall be certified thereof, immediately.
MORE	Nay, hear me, wife. First let me tell ye how I thought to have had a barber for my beard; Now I remember that were labour lost: The headsman now shall cut off head and all.
ROPER’S WIFE	Father, his majesty, upon your meek submission, Will yet, they say, receive you to his grace, In as great credit as you were before.
MORE	( ) wench. Faith, my lord the King Has appointed me to do a little business. If that were past, my girl, thou then shouldst see What I would say to him about that matter. But I shall be so busy until then I shall not tend it.
BOTH DAUGHTERS	Ah, my dear father!
LADY MORE	Dear lord and husband!
MORE	Be comforted, good wife, to live and love my children, For with thee leave I all my care of them. Son Roper, for my sake that have loved thee well, And for her virtue’s sake, cherish my child.— Girl, be not proud, but of thy husband’s love. Ever retain thy virtuous modesty. That modesty is such a comely garment As it is never out of fashion, sits as fair Upon the meaner woman as the empress. No stuff that gold can buy is half so rich, Nor ornament that so becomes a woman. Live all, and love together, and thereby You give your father a rich obsequy.
BOTH DAUGHTERS	Your blessing, dear father.
MORE	I must be gone—God bless you— To talk with God, who now doth call.
LADY MORE	Ah, my dear husband—
MORE	Sweet wife, goodnight, goodnight. God send us all his everlasting light.
ROPER	I think before this hour More heavy hearts ne’er parted in the Tower.
(didascalia)	Exeunt [Lady More, Daughters, and Roper one way; More,
ROPER	Lieutenant, and Servant as into the Tower] Sc. 17
(didascalia)	Enter the Sheriffs of London and their Officers at one door, the Warders with their halberds at another
FIRST SHERIFF	Officers, what time of day is’t?
OFFICER	Almost eight o’clock.
SECOND SHERIFF	We must make haste then, lest we stay too long.
FIRST WARDER	Good morrow, Master Sheriffs of London. Master Lieutenant Wills ye repair to the limits of the Tower, There to receive your prisoner.
FIRST SHERIFF	(to Officer) Go back and tell his worship we are ready.
SECOND SHERIFF	Go bid the officers make clear the way, There may be passage for the prisoner.
(didascalia)	Enter Lieutenant and his guard, with More
MORE	Yet God be thanked, here’s a fair day toward To take our journey in. Master Lieutenant, It were fair walking on the Tower leads.
LIEUTENANT	An so it might have liked my sovereign lord, I would to God you might have walked there still. He weeps
MORE	Sir, we are walking to a better place. O sir, your kind and loving tears Are like sweet odours to embalm your friend. Thank your good lady; since I was your guest She has made me a very wanton, in good sooth.
LIEUTENANT	O, I had hoped we should not yet have parted!
MORE	But I must leave ye for a little while.
(didascalia)	Within an hour or two you may look for me.
MORE	But there will be so many come to see me That I shall be so proud I will not speak; And sure my memory is grown so ill I fear I shall forget my head behind me.
LIEUTENANT	God and his blessed angels be about ye!— Here, Master Sheriffs, receive your prisoner.
MORE	Good morrow, Master Sheriffs of London, to ye both. I thank ye that ye will vouchsafe to meet me. I see by this you have not quite forgot That I was in times past as you are now, A sheriff of London.
FIRST SHERIFF	Sir, then you know our duty doth require it.
MORE	I know it well, sir, else I would have been glad You might have saved a labour at this time. [To Second Sheriff] Ah, Master Sheriff, You and I have been of old acquaintance. You were a patient auditor of mine When I read the divinity lecture At St Laurence’s.
SECOND SHERIFF	Sir Thomas More, I have heard you oft, as many other did, To our great comfort.
MORE	Pray God you may so now, with all my heart. And, as I call to mind, When I studied the law in Lincoln’s Inn I was of counsel with ye in a cause.
SECOND SHERIFF	I was about to say so, good Sir Thomas. 〈 〉 [They pass over the stage. A ladder to the scaffold is revealed, with the Hangman attending it]
MORE	O, is this the place? I promise ye, it is a goodly scaffold. In sooth, I am come about a headless errand, For I have not much to say, now I am here. Well, let’s ascend, i’ God’s name. In troth, methinks your stair is somewhat weak. [To the Hangman] I prithee, honest friend, lend me thy hand To help me up. As for my coming down, Let me alone, I’ll look to that myself. As he is going up the stairs, enters the Earls of Surrey and Shrewsbury My lords of Surrey and of Shrewsbury, give me your hands yet before we part. Ye see, though it pleaseth the King to raise me thus high, yet I am not proud; for the higher I mount the better I can see my friends about me. I am now on a far voyage, and this strange wooden horse must bear me thither. Yet I perceive by your looks you like my bargain so ill that there’s not one of ye all dare venture with me. (Walking) Truly, here’s a most sweet gallery. I like the air of it better than my garden at Chelsea. By your patience, good people that have pressed thus into my bedchamber, if you’ll not trouble me I’ll take a sound sleep here.
SHREWSBURY	My lord, ’twere good you’d publish to the world Your great offence unto his majesty.
MORE	My lord, I’ll bequeath this legacy to the hangman, and do it instantly. Gives him his gown I confess his majesty hath been ever good to me, and my offence to his highness makes me of a state pleader, a stage player—though I am old and have a bad voice—to act this last scene of my tragedy. I’ll send him, for my trespass, a reverend head: somewhat bald, for it is not requisite any head should stand covered to so high majesty. If that content him not, because I think my body will then do me small pleasure, let him but bury it and take it.
SURREY	My lord, my lord, hold conference with your soul. You see, my lord, the time of life is short.
MORE	I see it, my good lord. I dispatched that business the last night. I come hither only to be let blood by the hangman. My doctor here tells me it is good for the headache.
HANGMAN	I beseech ye, my lord, forgive me.
MORE	Forgive thee, honest fellow? Why?
HANGMAN	For your death, my lord.
MORE	O, my death! I had rather it were in thy power to forgive me, for thou hast the sharpest action against me. The law, my honest friend, lies in thy hands now. Here’s thy fee. [He gives him] his purse And, my good fellow, let my suit be dispatched presently; for ‘tis all one pain to die a lingering death and to live in the continual mill of a lawsuit. But I can tell thee, my neck is so short that if thou shouldst behead an hundred noblemen like myself, thou wouldst ne’er get credit by it. Therefore—look ye, sir—do it handsomely, or, of my word, thou shalt never deal with me hereafter.
HANGMAN	I’ll take an order for that, my lord.
MORE	One thing more: take heed thou cutt’st not off my beard. O, I forgot, execution passed upon that last night, and the body of it lies buried in the Tower. Stay, is’t not possible to make a scape from all this strong guard? It is. There is a thing within me that will raise And elevate my better part ’bove sight Of these same weaker eyes. And Master Sheriffs, For all this troop of steel that tends my death, I shall break from you and fly up to heaven. Let’s seek the means for this.
HANGMAN	My lord, I pray ye put off your doublet. 115
MORE	Speak not so coldly to me; I am hoarse already. I would be loath, good fellow, to take more. Point me the block; I ne’er was here before.
HANGMAN	To the east side, my lord.
MORE	Then to the east. We go to sigh; that o’er, to sleep in rest. Here More forsakes all mirth; good reason why: The fool of flesh must with her frail life die. No eye salute my trunk with a sad tear. Our birth to heaven should be thus: void of fear.
(didascalia)	Exit
SURREY	A very learnèd worthy gentleman Seals error with his blood. Come, we’ll to court. Let’s sadly hence to perfect unknown fates, Whilst he tends progress to the state of states. [Exeunt] [Original Text (Munday)]
APPENDIX	A The following passages in the Original Text are marked for deletion and replaced by the Additional Passages.
AI.	Replaced by 4.1-76. In the Original Text there are missing leaves between AI and A2.
DOLL	Peace there, I say! Hear Captain Lincoln speak. Keep silence till we know his mind at large.
ALL THE REST	Agreed, agreed. Speak then, brave Captain Lincoln.
LINCOLN	Come, gallant bloods, you whose free souls do scorn To bear th’enforcèd wrongs of aliens. Add rage to resolution. Fire the houses Of these audacious strangers. This is St Martin’s, And yonder dwells Meautis, a wealthy Piccard, At the Green Gate; De Barde, Peter van Hollak, Adrian Martin, With many more outlandish fugitives. Shall these enjoy more privilege than we In our own country? Let’s then become their slaves. Since justice keeps not them in greater awe, We’ll be ourselves rough ministers at law.
ALL THE REST	Fire the houses, fire the houses!
DOLL	Ay, for we may as well make bonfires on May Day as at Midsummer. We’ll alter the day in the calendar, and set it down in flaming letters.
SHERWIN	Stay, that would much endanger the whole city, Whereto I would not the least prejudice.
DOLL	No, nor I neither: so may mine own house be burned for company. I’ll tell ye what: we’ll drag the strangers out into Moorfields, and there bumbaste them till they stink again.
GEORGE BETTS	Let some of us enter the strangers’ houses, And, if we find them there, then bring them forth.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some, and Sherwin
DOLL	If ye bring them forth before ye find them, I’ll never allow of that.
WILLIAMSON	Now, lads, how shall we labour in our safety? I hear the Mayor hath gathered men in arms, And that Sheriff More an hour ago received Some of the Privy Council in at Ludgate. Force now must make our peace, or else we fall. ’will soon be known we are the principal.
DOLL	And what of that? If thou beest afraid, husband, go home again and hide thy head, for, by the Lord, I’ll have a little sport now I am at it.
GEORGE BETTS	Let’s stand upon our guard, and if they come Receive them as they were our enemies.
(didascalia)	Enter Sherwin and the rest
LINCOLN	How now, have ye found any?
SHERWIN	Not one, they’re fled.
LINCOLN	Then fire the houses, that, the Mayor being busy About the quenching of them, we may scape. Burn down their kennels! Let us straight away, Lest that this prove to us an ill May Day. Exeunt
(didascalia)	Sc. 4a Enter three or four prentices of trades, famongst them Harry, Robin, and Kit, with a pair of cudgels
HARRY	Come, lay down the cudgels.—Ha, Robin, you met us well at Bunhill, to have you with us a-Maying this morning!
ROBIN	Faith, Harry, the head drawer at the Mitre by the Great Conduit called me up, and we went to breakfast into St Anne’s Lane. But come, who begins? In good faith, I am clean out of practice. When wast at Garrett’s school, Harry?
HARRY	Not this great while; never since I brake his usher’s head when he played his scholar’s prize at the Star in Bread Street. I use all to George Philpot’s at Dowgate. He’s the best back-sword man in England.
KIT	‘Bate me an ace of that,’ quoth Bolton. 58
HARRY	I’ll not bate ye a pin on‘t, sir, for, by this cudgel, ’tis true.
KIT	I will cudgel that opinion out of ye. Did you break an usher’s head, sir?
HARRY	Ay, marry, did I, sir.
KIT	I am very glad on’t. You shall break mine too, an ye can.
HARRY	Sirrah, I prithee what art thou?
KIT	Why, I am a prentice, as thou art. Seest thou now? I’ll play with thee at blunt here in Cheapside; and when thou hast done, if thou beest angry, I’ll fight with thee at sharp in Moorfields. I have a sword to serve my turn in a favour. ( > come July, to serve < ) [Exeunt] A2. Replaced approximately by 6.159-63.
MORE	To persist in it is present death. But if you yield yourselves, no doubt what punishment you in simplicity have incurred, his highness in mercy will most graciously pardon. A3. Continues after Sc. 7. Replaced by 8.22-46 and 128-159. In the Original Text there are missing leaves between A3 and A4. Revised Sc. 8 restructures and expands upon A3 and A4. Annotated probably by Hand B. This must be new written. Sc. 8 A table being covered with a green carpet, a state cushion on it, and the purse and mace lying thereon, enter Sir Thomas More, and his man Randall with him, attired like him
MORE	Come on, sir, are you ready?
RANDALL	Yes, my lord. I stand but upon a few points. I shall have done presently. Is it your honour’s pleasure that I should grow proud now?
MORE	Ay, I must have thee proud, or else thou‘lt ne’er Be near allied to greatness. Observe me, sir. The learnèd clerk Erasmus is arrived
(didascalia)	Within our English court. This day, I hear,
MORE	He feasteth with an English honoured poet The Earl of Surrey, and I know this night 10 The famous clerk of Rotterdam will visit Sir Thomas More. Therefore, sir, act my part. There, take my place furnished with purse and mace. I’ll see if great Erasmus can distinguish Merit and outward ceremony. Observe me, sirrah. I’ll be thy glass. Dress thy behaviour According to my carriage. But beware Thou talk not overmuch, for ‘twill betray thee. Who prates not oft seems wise, his wit few scan, Whilst the tongue blabs tales of th’imperfect man.
RANDALL	I conceive your lordship, and have learned your shift so well that I must needs be apprehensive. The waits plays within
MORE	This music tells us that the Earl is come With learned Erasmus. Now, my Lord Chancellor, Act like a formal player our grave part.
RANDALL	I pray ye, my lord, let me command ye to leave me. If I do it not in cue, let your lordship banish me from the wearing of a gold chain for ever.
MORE	They come now. Set thy countenance, act thy part With a firm boldness, and thou winnest my heart.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Music. Enter Surrey, Erasmus, and attendants
SURREY	Now, great Erasmus, you approach the presence Of a most learned worthy gentleman. This little isle holds not a truer friend Unto the arts; nor doth his greatness add A feigned flourish to his worthy merit. He’s great in study: that’s the statist’s grace That gains more reverence than the outward place.
ERASMUS	Report, my lord, hath crossed the narrow seas, And to the several parts of Christendom Hath borne the fame of your Lord Chancellor. I longed to see him whom with loving thoughts I in my study oft have visited. Is yon Sir Thomas?
SURREY	It is, Erasmus. Now do you view the honourablest scholar, The most religious politician, The worthiest counsellor, that tends our state. That study is the general watch of England. In it, the Prince’s safety and the peace That shines upon our commonwealth are forged Upon the golden anvil of his brain. Who cures the realm, such care attends the great That mind and body must together sweat.
ERASMUS	His lordship hath some weighty business, sure, For see, as yet he takes no notice of us. I think ’were best I do my duty to him In a short Latin speech.
SURREY	It will do well. He’s the best linguist that we have in England.
ERASMUS	Cum tua virtus, amplissime doctissimeque vir, < > as pervenit < > tu < >visui < > divin A4. Replaced by 8.47-127 and 8.219-86.
MORE	Methinks this strange and ruffian-like disguise Fits not the follower of a secretary.
FALKNER	My lord, I wear my hair upon a vow.
SHREWSBURY	But for no penance of your sins, I fear.
SURREY	No, he’s no haircloth man, though he wear hair.
MORE	Falkner, how long is’t since you cut your locks?
FALKNER	Three years, my lord.
MORE	How long will’t be before your vow expire?
FALKNER	As many years as since my hair was cut.
MORE	Sure, vows are holy things, if they be made To good intent; and, sir, you shall not say You were compelled by me to break your vow. But till the expiration of the same, Because I will not have ye walk the streets For every man to stand and wonder at, I will commit ye prisoner unto Newgate, Except meantime your conscience give you leave To dispense with the long vow that you have made.— Away with him.
SURREY	A cell most meet for such a votary.
FALKNER	Well, sir, and I may perhaps be bailed ere’t be long, and yet wear my hair. They lead him out
MORE	And Master Sheriff of London, Here in his highness’ name we give you charge Continual watch be kept throughout the city For the suppressing of these mutinies. And if hereafter any that belong Either to my lord of Winchester or Ely Do come into your city with a weapon, Or above two of either faction Shall be seen walking in the streets together, Or meet in tavern or in ordinary, They be committed presently to prison.
SURREY	And cause to be proclaimed about the city That no man whatsoever that belongs Either to my lord of Winchester or Ely Do walk without the livery of his lord, Either in cloak or any other garment, That notice may be taken of th’offenders.
(didascalia)	Enter Master Morris, and exeunt Sheriff and ail but
(didascalia)	Morel
MORRIS	God save your honour my Lord Chancellor!
MORE	Welcome, Master Morris! What news, sir?
MORRIS	I come most humbly to entreat your honour In the behalf of a poor man of mine.
MORE	What, the votary that will not cut his hair Until the expiration of his vow?
MORRIS	My lord, being sorry for his rude behaviour, He hath cut his hair, and doth conform himself To honest decency in his attire.
MORE	Where is the fellow? I am glad to hear it. Falkner is brought
MORRIS	Here, my good lord.
MORE	You mock me, surely. This is not the man.
FALKNER	Yes indeed, my lord, I am he.
MORE	Thou art not, sure. The other was an ugly, filthy knave; Thou a good-featured and well-favoured man. Why, see what monsters you will make yourselves By cherishing a loathsome excrement T’abuse the goodly image of a man Whom God did frame so excellent a creature. Well, be a peaceable and civil man. I do discharge thee.
FALKNER	I humbly thank your honour.
MORRIS	And myself Shall rest most thankful for this gracious favour.
MORE	Will’t please your honours now to keep your way? I fear the lords are hindered by our stay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lords
MORRIS	See, sir, what your ruffian tricks come to. You think the eye of wisdom does not see Into the brainsick follies of vain heads, But with your swaggering you can bear’t away.
FALKNER	Sir, I confess I have been much misgoverned, And led by idle spleens, which now I see Are, like themselves, mere sottish vanity. When in the jail, I better called to mind The grave rebukes of my Lord Chancellor, And looked into myself with more respect Than my rash heat before would let me see. I caused a barber presently be sent for, And moved your worship then to speak for me. But when I fall into like folly again Cashier me < )
(didascalia)	Exeunt
FALKNER	A5. Replaced by 13.53-122.
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 them 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 me 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, Challenge not fortune for your thriftless debtor.
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. Pro eris generosis servis gloriosum mori. Dear Gough, thou art my learnèd secretary— You, Master Catesby, steward of my house; The rest, like you, have had fair time to grow In sunshine 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 their second lords. Then, living thus untainted, you are well. Truth is no pilot for the land of hell.
APPENDIX	B The following authorial first drafts are marked for deletion and immediately replaced. B1. First Version of 9.334-53 in Add. VI.
MORE	Lord Mayor and ladies and the rest, be patient. The state hath sent, and I must needs be gone. Lead on there.—What seek’st thou, fellow?
PLAYER	of WIT Your lordship sent us eight angels by your man, and I have lost one here amongst the rushes.
MORE	Eight angels? Who delivered it? I sent them ten.
SERVINGMAN	I, my lord, delivered it. Anon they shall have two more.
PLAYER	of WIT That’s more than we heard before, my lord.
MORE	Am I a man of equity Equally to divide true right his own, And shall I have deceivers in my house? Go pull the coat over the varlet’s ears. There are too many such. Give them their due. Lead on away. B2. First Version of 17.106-127 (Stay… states) in the Original Text. Come, let’s to the block.
HANGMAN	My lord, I pray ye put off your doublet.
MORE	No, my good friend, I have a great cold already, and I would be loath to take more. Point me meet the block, for I was ne’er here before.
HANGMAN	To the east side, my lord.
MORE	Then to the east. We go to sigh; that o’er, to sleep in rest. No eye salute my trunk with a sad tear. Our birth to heaven should be thus: void of fear. Exit
BY	SHAKESPEARE, ADAPTED BY THOMAS MIDDLETON Measure for Measure, first printed in the 1623 Folio, was performed at court on 26 December 1604. Plague had caused London’s theatres to be closed from May 1603 to April 1604; the play was probably written and first acted during this period. Dislocations and other features of the text as printed suggest that it may have undergone adaptation after Shakespeare’s death. Someone—perhaps Thomas Middleton, to judge by the style—seems to have supplied a new, seedy opening to Act I, Scene 2; and an adapter seems also to have altered 3.1. 517-4.1.63 by transposing the Duke’s two soliloquies, by introducing a stanza from a popular song, and supplying dialogue to follow it, and by adding other short passages. We print the text in what we believe to be its adapted form; a conjectured reconstruction of Shakespeare’s original version of the adapted sections is given in the Additional Passages. The story of a woman who, in seeking to save the life of a male relative, arouses the lust of a man in authority was an ancient one that reached literary form in the mid sixteenth century. Shakespeare may have known the prose version in Giambattista Cinzio Giraldi’s Gli Ecatommiti (1565, translated into French in 1583) and the same author’s play Epitia (1573, published in 1583), but his main source was George Whetstone’s unsuccessful, unperformed two-part tragicomedy Promos and Cassandra, published in 1578. Shakespeare’s title comes from St Matthew’s account of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount: ‘with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again’. The title is not expressive of the play’s morality, but it alerts the spectator to Shakespeare’s exploration of moral issues. His heroine, Isabella, is not merely, as in Whetstone, a virtuous young maiden: she is about to enter a nunnery. Her brother, Claudio, has not, as in Whetstone, been accused (however unjustly) of rape: his union with the girl (Juliet) he has made pregnant has been ratified by a betrothal ceremony, and lacks only the church’s formal blessing. So Angelo, deputizing for the absent Duke of Vienna, seems peculiarly harsh in attempting to enforce the city’s laws against fornication by insisting on Claudio’s execution; and Angelo’s hypocrisy in demanding Isabella’s chastity in return for her brother’s life seems correspondingly greater. By adding the character of Mariana, to whom Angelo himself had once been betrothed, and by employing the traditional motif of the ‘bed-trick’, by which Mariana substitutes for Isabella in Angelo’s bed, Shakespeare permits Isabella both to retain her virtue and to forgive Angelo without marrying him. Although Measure for Measure, like The Merchant of Venice, is much concerned with justice and mercy, its more explicit concern with sex and death along with the intense emotional reality, at least in the earlier part of the play, of its portrayal of Angelo, Isabella, and Claudio, creates a deeper seriousness of tone which takes it out of the world of romantic comedy into that of tragicomedy or, as the twentieth-century label has it, ‘problem play’. Its low-life characters inhabit a diseased world of brothels and prisons, but there is a life-enhancing quality in their frank acknowledgement of sexuality; and the Duke’s manipulation of events casts a tinge of romance over the play’s later scenes. Measure for Measure’s subtle and passionate exploration of issues of sexual morality, of the uses and abuses of power, gave it a special appeal in the later part of the twentieth century. Each of the ‘good’ characters fails in some respect; none of the ‘bad’ ones lacks some redeeming quality; all are, in the last analysis, ‘desperately mortal’ (4.2.148).
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY Vincentio, the DUKE of Vienna ANGELO, appointed his deputy ESCALUS, an old lord, appointed Angelo’s secondary CLAUDIO, a young gentleman JULIET, betrothed to Claudio ISABELLA, Claudio’s sister, novice to a sisterhood of nuns LUCIO, ‘a fantastic’ Two other such GENTLEMEN FROTH, a foolish gentleman
MISTRESS	OVERDONE, a bawd POMPEY, her clownish servant A PROVOST ELBOW, a simple constable A JUSTICE ABHORSON, an executioner BARNARDINE, a dissolute condemned prisoner MARIANA, betrothed to Angelo A BOY, attendant on Mariana
FRIAR PETER	FRANCESCA, a nun VARRIUS, a lord, friend to the Duke Lords, officers, citizens, servants