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!

DOLL ⌈to Sherif⌉

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.

⌈To Clown Betts⌉ And thine too, Ralph. And thine, good

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.

A great shout and noise ⌈within⌉

VOICES WITHIN Pardon, pardon, pardon, pardon!

Room for the Earl of Surreyl 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 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.