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SIR THOMAS MORE Page: 20
(Noting your wisdom and deserving merit)
To put this staff of honor in your hand,
For he hath chose you of his Privy Council.
MORE.
My lord, for to deny my sovereign's bounty
Were to drop precious stones into the heaps
Whence they first came;
To urge my imperfections in excuse,
Were all as stale as custom: no, my lord,
My service is my kings; good reason why,--
Since life or death hangs on our sovereign's eye.
LORD MAYOR.
His majesty hath honored much the city
In this his princely choice.
MORE.
My lord and brethren,
Though I depart for court my love shall rest
With you, as heretofore, a faithful guest.
I now must sleep in court, sound sleeps forbear;
The chamberlain to state is public care:
Yet, in this rising of my private blood,
My studious thoughts shall tend the city's good.
[Enter Crofts.]
SHREWSBURY.
How now, Crofts! what news?
CROFTS.
My lord, his highness sends express command
That a record be entered of this riot,
And that the chief and capital offenders
Be thereon straight arraigned, for himself intends
To sit in person on the rest tomorrow
At Westminster.
SHREWSBURY.
Lord Mayor, you hear your charge.--
Come, good Sir Thomas More, to court let's hie;
You are th' appeaser of this mutiny.
MORE.
My lord, farewell: new days begets new tides;
Life whirls bout fate, then to a grave it slides.
[Exeunt severally.]
ACT III.
SCENE I. Cheapside.
[Enter Master Sheriff, and meet a Messenger.]
SHERIFF.
Messenger, what news?
MESSENGER.
Is execution yet performed?
SHERIFF.
Not yet; the carts stand ready at the stairs,
And they shall presently away to Tibourne.
MESSENGER.
Stay, Master Shrieve; it is the council's pleasure,
For more example in so bad a case,
A gibbet be erected in Cheapside,
Hard by the Standard; whether you must bring
Lincoln and those that were the chief with him,
[Enter Officers.]
To suffer death, and that immediately.
SHERIFF.
It shall be done, sir.
[Exit Messenger.]
--Officers, be speedy;
Call for a gibbet, see it be erected;
Others make haste to Newgate, bid them bring
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