Sir Thomas More [13]
I'll appear before
no king christened but my good Lord Chancellor.
SHRIEVE.
We'll christen you, sirrah.--Bring him forward.
MORE.
How now! what tumults make you?
FAULKNER.
The azured heavens protect my noble Lord Chancellor!
MORE.
What fellow's this?
SHRIEVE.
A ruffian, my lord, that hath set half the city in an uproar.
FAULKNER.
My lord--
SHRIEVE.
There was a fray in Paternoster-row, and because they would not
be parted, the street was choked up with carts.
FAULKNER.
My noble lord, Paniar Allies throat was open.
MORE.
Sirrah, hold your peace.
FAULKNER.
I'll prove the street was not choked, but is as well as ever it was
since it was a street.
SHRIEVE.
This fellow was a principal broacher of the broil.
FAULKNER.
'Sblood, I broached none; it was broached and half run out, before I
had a lick at it.
SHRIEVE.
And would be brought before no justice but your honor.
FAULKNER.
I am hailed, my noble lord.
MORE.
No ear to choose for every trivial noise
but mine, and in so full a time? Away!
You wrong me, Master Shrieve: dispose of him
At your own pleasure; send the knave to Newgate.
FAULKNER.
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?
FAULKNER.
My name's Jack Faulkner; 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!
FAULKNER.
I hope so, my lord. The fray was between the Bishops' men of Ely
and Winchester; and I could not in honor 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.
FAULKNER.
I know your honor is wise and so forth; and I desire to be only
cathecized or examined by you, my noble Lord Chancellor.
MORE.
Sirrah, sirrah, you are a busy dangerous ruffian.
FAULKNER.
Ruffian!
MORE.
How long have you worn this hair?
FAULKNER.
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 they head?
FAULKNER.
How long, my lord? why, sometimes thus long, sometimes lower,
as the Fates and humors 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 barbers? how long time
Have you upon your head worn this shag hair?
FAULKNER.
My lord, Jack Faulkner tells no Aesops fables: troth, I was not at
barbers this three years; I have not been cut not 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?
FAULKNER.
Why, when the humors are purged, not this 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 shrieve,
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!
FAULKNER.
My lord--
MORE.
Cut off this fleece, and lie there but a month.
FAULKNER.
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.
Away with him.
[Exeunt all except Randall.]
[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
no king christened but my good Lord Chancellor.
SHRIEVE.
We'll christen you, sirrah.--Bring him forward.
MORE.
How now! what tumults make you?
FAULKNER.
The azured heavens protect my noble Lord Chancellor!
MORE.
What fellow's this?
SHRIEVE.
A ruffian, my lord, that hath set half the city in an uproar.
FAULKNER.
My lord--
SHRIEVE.
There was a fray in Paternoster-row, and because they would not
be parted, the street was choked up with carts.
FAULKNER.
My noble lord, Paniar Allies throat was open.
MORE.
Sirrah, hold your peace.
FAULKNER.
I'll prove the street was not choked, but is as well as ever it was
since it was a street.
SHRIEVE.
This fellow was a principal broacher of the broil.
FAULKNER.
'Sblood, I broached none; it was broached and half run out, before I
had a lick at it.
SHRIEVE.
And would be brought before no justice but your honor.
FAULKNER.
I am hailed, my noble lord.
MORE.
No ear to choose for every trivial noise
but mine, and in so full a time? Away!
You wrong me, Master Shrieve: dispose of him
At your own pleasure; send the knave to Newgate.
FAULKNER.
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?
FAULKNER.
My name's Jack Faulkner; 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!
FAULKNER.
I hope so, my lord. The fray was between the Bishops' men of Ely
and Winchester; and I could not in honor 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.
FAULKNER.
I know your honor is wise and so forth; and I desire to be only
cathecized or examined by you, my noble Lord Chancellor.
MORE.
Sirrah, sirrah, you are a busy dangerous ruffian.
FAULKNER.
Ruffian!
MORE.
How long have you worn this hair?
FAULKNER.
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 they head?
FAULKNER.
How long, my lord? why, sometimes thus long, sometimes lower,
as the Fates and humors 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 barbers? how long time
Have you upon your head worn this shag hair?
FAULKNER.
My lord, Jack Faulkner tells no Aesops fables: troth, I was not at
barbers this three years; I have not been cut not 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?
FAULKNER.
Why, when the humors are purged, not this 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 shrieve,
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!
FAULKNER.
My lord--
MORE.
Cut off this fleece, and lie there but a month.
FAULKNER.
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.
Away with him.
[Exeunt all except Randall.]
[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