Sir Thomas More [21]
great reverence.]
MORE.
Subscribe these articles! stay, let us pause;
Our conscience first shall parley with our laws.--
My Lord of Rochester, view you the paper.
ROCHESTER.
Subscribe to these! now, good Sir Thomas Palmer,
Beseech the king that he will pardon me:
My heart will check my hand whilst I do write;
Subscribing so, I were an hypocrite.
PALMER.
Do you refuse it, then, my lord?
ROCHESTER.
I do, Sir Thomas.
PALMER.
Then here I summon you forthwith t' appear
Before his majesty, to answer there
This capital contempt.
ROCHESTER.
I rise and part,
In lieu of this to tender him my heart.
[He riseth.]
PALMER.
Wilt please your honor to subscribe, my lord?
MORE.
Sir, tell his highness, I entreat
Some time for to bethink me of this task:
In the meanwhile I do resign mine office
Into my sovereign's hands.
PALMER.
Then, my lord,
Hear the prepared order from the king:
On your refusal, you shall straight depart
Unto your house at Chelsea, till you know
Our sovereign's further pleasure.
MORE.
Most willingly I go.--
My lords, if you will visit me at Chelsea,
We'll go a fishing, and with a cunning net,
Not like weak film, we'll catch none but the great:
Farewell, my noble lords. Why, this is right:
Good morrow to the sun, to state good night!
[Exit More.]
PALMER.
Will you subscribe, my lords?
SURREY.
Instantly, good Sir Thomas,
We'll bring the writing unto our sovereign.
[They write.]
PALMER.
My Lord of Rochester,
You must with me, to answer this contempt.
ROCHESTER.
This is the worst,
Who's freed from life is from all care exempt.
[Exit Rochester and Palmer.]
SURREY.
Now let us hasten to our sovereign.
Tis strange that my Lord Chancellor should refuse
The duty that the law of God bequeaths
Unto the king.
SHREWSBURY.
Come, let us in. No doubt
His mind will alter, and the bishop's too:
Error in learned heads hath much to do.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Chelsea.
[Enter the Lady More, her two Daughters, and Master Roper, as
walking.]
ROPER.
Madame, what ails ye for to look so sad?
LADY MORE.
Troth, son, I know not what; I am not sick,
And yet I am not well. I would be merry;
But somewhat lies so heavy on heart,
I cannot choose but sigh. You are a scholar;
I pray ye, tell me, may one credit dreams?
ROPER.
Why ask you that, dear madame?
LADY MORE.
Because tonight I had the strangest dream
That ere my sleep was troubled with. Me thought twas night,
And that the king and queen went on the Thames
In barges to hear music: my lord and I
Were in a little boat me thought,--Lord, Lord,
What strange things live in slumbers!--and, being near,
We grappled to the barge that bare the king.
But after many pleasing voices spent
In that still moving music house, me though
The violence of the stream did sever us
Quite from the golden fleet, and hurried us
Unto the bridge, which with unused horror
We entered at full tide: thence some slight shoot
Being carried by the waves, our boat stood still
Just opposite the Tower, and there it turned
And turned about, as when a whirl-pool sucks
The circled waters: me thought that we both cried,
Till that we sunk: where arm in arm we died.
ROPER.
Give no respect, dear madame, to fond dreams:
They are but slight illusions of the blood.
LADY MORE.
Tell me not all are so; for often dreams
Are true diviners, either of good or ill:
I cannot be in quiet till I hear
How my lord fares.
ROPER.
[aside.] No it.--Come hither, wife:
I will not fright thy mother, to interpret
The nature of a dream; but trust me, sweet,
This night I have been troubled with thy father
Beyond all thought.
ROPER'S WIFE.
Truly, and so have I:
Methought I saw him here in Chelsea Church,
Standing upon the roodloft, now defac'd;
And whilst he kneeled and prayed before the image,
It fell with him into the upper-choir,
Where my poor father lay all stained in blood.
ROPER.
Our dreams all meet in one conclusion,
Fatal, I fear.
LADY MORE.
What's that you talk? I pray
MORE.
Subscribe these articles! stay, let us pause;
Our conscience first shall parley with our laws.--
My Lord of Rochester, view you the paper.
ROCHESTER.
Subscribe to these! now, good Sir Thomas Palmer,
Beseech the king that he will pardon me:
My heart will check my hand whilst I do write;
Subscribing so, I were an hypocrite.
PALMER.
Do you refuse it, then, my lord?
ROCHESTER.
I do, Sir Thomas.
PALMER.
Then here I summon you forthwith t' appear
Before his majesty, to answer there
This capital contempt.
ROCHESTER.
I rise and part,
In lieu of this to tender him my heart.
[He riseth.]
PALMER.
Wilt please your honor to subscribe, my lord?
MORE.
Sir, tell his highness, I entreat
Some time for to bethink me of this task:
In the meanwhile I do resign mine office
Into my sovereign's hands.
PALMER.
Then, my lord,
Hear the prepared order from the king:
On your refusal, you shall straight depart
Unto your house at Chelsea, till you know
Our sovereign's further pleasure.
MORE.
Most willingly I go.--
My lords, if you will visit me at Chelsea,
We'll go a fishing, and with a cunning net,
Not like weak film, we'll catch none but the great:
Farewell, my noble lords. Why, this is right:
Good morrow to the sun, to state good night!
[Exit More.]
PALMER.
Will you subscribe, my lords?
SURREY.
Instantly, good Sir Thomas,
We'll bring the writing unto our sovereign.
[They write.]
PALMER.
My Lord of Rochester,
You must with me, to answer this contempt.
ROCHESTER.
This is the worst,
Who's freed from life is from all care exempt.
[Exit Rochester and Palmer.]
SURREY.
Now let us hasten to our sovereign.
Tis strange that my Lord Chancellor should refuse
The duty that the law of God bequeaths
Unto the king.
SHREWSBURY.
Come, let us in. No doubt
His mind will alter, and the bishop's too:
Error in learned heads hath much to do.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Chelsea.
[Enter the Lady More, her two Daughters, and Master Roper, as
walking.]
ROPER.
Madame, what ails ye for to look so sad?
LADY MORE.
Troth, son, I know not what; I am not sick,
And yet I am not well. I would be merry;
But somewhat lies so heavy on heart,
I cannot choose but sigh. You are a scholar;
I pray ye, tell me, may one credit dreams?
ROPER.
Why ask you that, dear madame?
LADY MORE.
Because tonight I had the strangest dream
That ere my sleep was troubled with. Me thought twas night,
And that the king and queen went on the Thames
In barges to hear music: my lord and I
Were in a little boat me thought,--Lord, Lord,
What strange things live in slumbers!--and, being near,
We grappled to the barge that bare the king.
But after many pleasing voices spent
In that still moving music house, me though
The violence of the stream did sever us
Quite from the golden fleet, and hurried us
Unto the bridge, which with unused horror
We entered at full tide: thence some slight shoot
Being carried by the waves, our boat stood still
Just opposite the Tower, and there it turned
And turned about, as when a whirl-pool sucks
The circled waters: me thought that we both cried,
Till that we sunk: where arm in arm we died.
ROPER.
Give no respect, dear madame, to fond dreams:
They are but slight illusions of the blood.
LADY MORE.
Tell me not all are so; for often dreams
Are true diviners, either of good or ill:
I cannot be in quiet till I hear
How my lord fares.
ROPER.
[aside.] No it.--Come hither, wife:
I will not fright thy mother, to interpret
The nature of a dream; but trust me, sweet,
This night I have been troubled with thy father
Beyond all thought.
ROPER'S WIFE.
Truly, and so have I:
Methought I saw him here in Chelsea Church,
Standing upon the roodloft, now defac'd;
And whilst he kneeled and prayed before the image,
It fell with him into the upper-choir,
Where my poor father lay all stained in blood.
ROPER.
Our dreams all meet in one conclusion,
Fatal, I fear.
LADY MORE.
What's that you talk? I pray