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I'll see if great Erasmus can distinguish

Merit and outward ceremony.

RANDALL.

If I do not serve 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 winst my heart.

[Enter the Shrieve, with Faulkner a ruffian, and Officers.]

How now! what's the matter?

FAULKNER.

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.

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.