Yet, I thank God, ne’er with a clearer conscience

Than at this hour.

This is my comfort yet: how hard soe’er

My lodging prove, the cry of the poor suitor,

Fatherless orphan, or distressèd widow

Shall not disturb me in my quiet sleep.

On then, i’ God’s name, to our close abode.

God is as strong here as he is abroad.

Exeunt

Sc. 15 Enter Butler, Brewer, Porter, and Horse-keeper, several ways

BUTLER Robin Brewer, how now, man? What cheer, what cheer?

BREWER Faith, Ned Butler, sick of thy disease, and these our other fellows here, Ralph Horse-keeper and Giles Porter: sad, sad. They say my lord goes to his trial today.

HORSE-KEEPER To it, man? Why, he is now at it. God send him well to speed!

PORTER Amen. Even as I wish to mine own soul, so speed it with my honourable lord and master Sir Thomas More!

BUTLER I cannot tell—I have nothing to do with matters above my capacity—but, as God judge me, if I might speak my mind, I think there lives not a more harmless gentleman in the universal world.

BREWER Nor a wiser, nor a merrier, nor an honester. Go to, I’ll put that in upon mine own knowledge.

PORTER Nay, an ye bate him his due of his housekeeping, hang ye all! Ye have many lord chancellors comes in debt at the year’s end, and for very housekeeping!

HORSE-KEEPER Well, he was too good a lord for us, and therefore, I fear, God himself will take him. But I’ll be hanged if ever I have such another service.

BREWER Soft, man, we are not discharged yet. My lord may come home again, and all will be well.

BUTLER I much mistrust it. When they go to ’raigning once, there’s ever foul weather for a great while after. Enter Gough and Catesby, with a paper

But soft, here comes Master Gough and Master Catesby.

Now we shall hear more.

HORSE-KEEPER Before God, they are very sad. I doubt my lord is condemned.

PORTER God bless his soul, and a fig then for all worldly condemnation!

GOUGH

Well said, Giles Porter, I commend thee for it.

’Twas spoken like a well-affected servant

Of him that was a kind lord to us all.

CATESBY

Which now no more he shall be, for, dear fellows,

Now we are masterless. Though he may live

So long as please the King, but law hath made him

A dead man to the world, and given the axe his head,

But his sweet soul to live among the saints.

GOUGH

Let us entreat ye to go call together

The rest of your sad fellows—by the roll

You’re just seven score—and tell them what ye hear

A virtuous, honourable lord hath done

Even for the meanest follower that he had.

This writing found my lady in his study

This instant morning, wherein is set down

Each servant’s name, according to his place

And office in the house. On every man

He frankly hath bestown twenty nobles,

The best and worst together, all alike,

Which Master Catesby hereforth will pay ye.

CATESBY

Take it as it is meant, a kind remembrance

Of a far kinder lord, with whose sad fall

He gives up house, and farewell to us all.

Thus the fair spreading oak falls not alone,

But all the neighbour plants and under-trees

Are crushed down with his weight. No more of this.

Come and receive your due, and after go

Fellow-like hence, co-partners of one woe.

Exeunt

Sc. 16 Enter Sir Thomas More, the Lieutenant, and a Servant attending, as in his chamber in the Tower

MORE

Master Lieutenant, is the warrant come?

If it be so, i’ God’s name let us know it.

LIEUTENANT My lord, it is.

MORE

’Tis welcome, sir, to me with all my heart.

His blessèd will be done.

LIEUTENANT

Your wisdom, sir, hath been so well approved,

And your fair patience in imprisonment

Hath ever shown such constancy of mind

And Christian resolution in all troubles,

As warrants us you are not unprepared.

MORE

No, Master Lieutenant. I thank my God

I have peace of conscience, though the world and I

Are at a little odds. But we’ll be even now, I hope,

Ere long. When is the execution of your warrant?

LIEUTENANT

Tomorrow morning.

MORE

So, sir, I thank ye.

I have not lived so ill I fear to die.

Master Lieutenant,

I have had a sore fit of the stone tonight;

But the King hath sent me such a rare receipt,

I thank him, as I shall not need to fear it much.

LIEUTENANT

In life and death, still merry Sir Thomas More.

[To Servant] Sirrah fellow, reach me the urinal.

He gives it him

Ha, let me see. There’s gravel in the water.

And yet, in very sober truth I swear,

The man were likely to live long enough,

So pleased the King. Here, fellow, take it.

SERVANT

Shall I go with it to the doctor, sir?

MORE

No, save thy labour. We’ll cozen him of a fee.

Thou shalt see me take a dram tomorrow morning

Shall cure the stone, I warrant, doubt it not.—

Master Lieutenant, what news of my lord of Rochester?

LIEUTENANT

Yesterday morning was he put to death.

MORE

The peace of soul sleep with him!

He was a learned and a reverend prelate,

And a rich man, believe me.

LIEUTENANT

If he were rich, what is Sir Thomas More,

That all this while hath been Lord Chancellor?

MORE

Say ye so, Master Lieutenant? What do you think

A man that with my time had held my place

Might purchase?

LIEUTENANT

Perhaps, my lord, two thousand pound a year.

MORE

Master Lieutenant, I protest to you,

I never had the means in all my life

To purchase one poor hundred pound a year.