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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Israel Gollancz William Shakespeare [1946]

By Root 20043 0

[A great shout and noise, cry within 'Pardon, pardon, pardon, pardon! Room for the Earl of Surrey, room there, room!'.]

[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 Councils' 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.

God save the king, God save the king!

My good Lord Chancellor, and the Earl of Surrey!

[Flinging up caps.]

DOLL.

And Doll desires it from her very heart,

More's name may live for this right noble part;

And whensoere we talk of ill May day,

Praise More….

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, then 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:—

Oh God, that Mercy, whose majestic brow

Should be unwrinkled, and that awful Justice,

Which looketh through a vail 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 Surrey!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. Chelsea. A Room in More's House.

[A table being covered with a green carpet, a state cushion on it, and the Purse and Mace lying thereon, enter Sir Thomas 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 borne withal. Good God, good Go,

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 honor, office, wealth, and calling,

Which might excite thee to embrace and hub them,

The more doe thou in serpents' 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 hayday is once 'spon,

A bottom great wound up great undone.—

Come on, sir: are you ready?

[Enter Randall, attired like Sir Thomas More.]

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 clark Erasmus is arrived

Within our English court: last night I hear

He feasted with our honored English poet,

The Earl of Surrey; and I learned today

The famous clark of Rotterdam will visit

Sir Thomas More. Therefore, sir, take my seat;

you are Lord Chancellor: dress your behavior

According to my carriage; but beware

You talk not over much, for twill betray thee:

Who prates not much seems wise; his wit few scan;

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