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I long to see him； whom with loving thoughts
I in my study oft have visited。
Is that Sir Thomas More？
SURREY。
It is； Erasmus：
Now shall you view the honorablest scholar；
The most religious politician；
The worthiest counsellor that tends our state。
That study is the general watch of England；
In it the prince's safety； and the peace
That shines upon our commonwealth； are forged
By loyal industry。
ERASMUS。
I doubt him not
To be as near the life of excellence
As you proclaim him； when his meanest servants
Are of some weight： you saw； my lord； his porter
Give entertainment to us at the gate
In Latin good phrase； what's the master； then；
When such good parts shine in his meanest men？
SURREY。
His Lordship hath some weighty business；
For； see； yet he takes no notice of us。
ERASMUS。
I think twere best I did my duty to him
In a short Latin speech。
Qui in celiberima patria natus est ett gloriosa； plus habet negotii ut
in lucem veniat quam qui
RANDALL。
I prithee； good Erasmus； be covered。 I have forsworn speaking of
Latin； else； as I am true counsellor； I'd tickle you with a speech。
Nay； sit； Erasmus；sit； good my Lord of Surrey。 I'll make my lady
come to you anon； if she will； and give you entertainment。
ERASMUS。
Is this Sir Thomas More？
SURREY。
Oh good Erasmus； you must conceive his vain：
He's ever furnished with these conceits。
RANDALL。
Yes； faith； my learned poet doth not lie for that matter： I am
neither more nor less than merry Sir Thomas always。 Wilt sup
with me？ by God； I love a parlous wise fellow that smells of a
politician better than a long progress。
＇Enter Sir Thomas More。＇
SURREY。
We are deluded； this is not his lordship。
RANDALL。
I pray you； Erasmus； how long will the Holland cheese in your
country keep without maggots？
MORE。
Fool； painted barbarism； retire thyself
Into thy first creation！
＇Exit Randall。＇
Thus you see；
My loving learned friends； how far respect
Waits often on the ceremonious train
Of base illiterate wealth； whilst men of schools；
Shrouded in poverty； are counted fools。
Pardon； thou reverent German； I have mixed
So slight a jest to the fair entertainment
Of thy most worthy self； for know； Erasmus；
Mirth wrinkles up my face； and I still crave；
When that forsakes me I may hug my grave。
ERASMUS。
Your honor's merry humor is best physic
Unto your able body； for we learn
Where melancholy chokes the passages
Of blood and breath； the erected spirit still
Lengthens our days with sportful exercise：
Study should be the saddest time of life。
The rest a sport exempt from thought of strife。
MORE。
Erasmus preacheth gospel against physic；
My noble poet。
SURREY。
Oh； my Lord； you tax me
In that word poet of much idleness：
It is a study that makes poor our fate；
Poets were ever thought unfit for state。
MORE。
O； give not up fair poesy； sweet lord；
To such contempt！ That I may speak my heart；
It is the sweetest heraldry of art；
That sets a difference 'tween the tough sharp holly
And tender bay tree。
SURREY。
Yet； my lord；
It is become the very logic number
To all mechanic sciences。
MORE。
Why； I'll show the reason：
This is no age for poets； they should sing
To the loud canon heroica facta；
Qui faciunt reges heroica carmina laudant：
And； as great subjects of their pen decay；
Even so unphysicked they do melt away。
＇Enter Master Morris。＇
Come； will your lordship in？My dear Erasmus
I'll hear you； Master Morris； presently。
My lord； I make you master of my house：
We'll banquet here with fresh and staid delights；
The Muses music here shall cheer our sprites；
The cates must be but mean where scholars sit；
For they're made all with courses of neat wit。
＇Exeunt Surrey； Erasmus； and Attendants。＇
How now； Master Morris？
MORRIS。
I am a suitor to your lordship in behalf of a servant of mine。
MORE。
The fellow with long hair？ good Master Morris；
Come to me three years hence； and then I'll hear you。
MORRIS。
I understand your honor： but the foolish knave has submitted
himself to the mercy of a barber； and is without； ready to make a
new vow before your lordship； hereafter to leave cavil。
MORE。
Nay； then； let's talk with him； pray； call him in。
＇Enter Faulkner and Officers。＇
FAULKNER。
Bless your honor！ a new man； my lord
MORE。
Why； sure； this is not he。
FAULKNER。
And your lordship will； the barber shall give you a sample of my
head： I am he in faith； my lord； I am ipse。
MORE。
Why； now thy face is like an honest man's：
Thou hast played well at this new cut； and won。
FAULKNER。
No； my lord； lost all that ever God sent me。
MORE。
God sent thee into the world as thou art now；
With a short hair。 How quickly are three years
Run out of Newgate！
FAULKNER。
I think so； my lord； for there was but a hair's length between my
going thither and so long time。
MORE。
Because I see some grace in thee； go free。
Discharge him； fellows。Farewell； Master Morris。
Thy head is for thy shoulders now more fit；
Thou hast less hair upon it； but more wit。
＇Exit。＇
MORRIS。
Did not I tell thee always of these locks？
FAULKNER。
And the locks were on again； all the goldsmiths in Cheapside
should not pick them open。 'Sheart； if my hair stand not on end
when I look for my face in a glass； I am a polecat。 Here's a lousy
jest！ but； if I notch not that rogue Tom barber； that makes me look
thus like a Brownist； hang me！ I'll be worse to the nitticall knave
than ten tooth drawings。 Here's a head； with a pox！
MORRIS。
What ails thou？ art thou mad now？
FAULKNER。
Mad now！ nails； if loss of hair cannot mad a man； what can？ I am
deposed； my crown is taken from me。 More had been better a
scoured Moreditch than a notched me thus： does he begin
sheepshearing with Jack Faulkner？
MORRIS。
Nay； and you feed this vein； sir； fare you well。
FAULKNER。
Why； farewell； frost。 I'll go hang myself out for the Poll Head。
Make a Saracen of Jack？
MORRIS。
Thou desperate knave！ for that I see the devil
Wholly gets hold of thee
FAULKNER。
The devil's a damned rascal。
MORRIS。
I charge thee； wait on me no more； no more
Call me thy master。
FAULKNER。
Why； then； a word； Master Morris。
MORRIS。
I'll hear no words； sir； fare you well。
FAULKNER。
'Sblood； farewell。
MORRIS。
Why dost thou follow me？
FAULKNER。
Because I'm an ass。 Do you set your shavers upon me； and then
cast me off？ must I condole？ have the Fates played the fools？ am I
their cut？ now the poor sconce is taken； must Jack march with bag
and baggage？
＇Weeps。＇
MORRIS。
You coxcomb！
FAULKNER。
Nay； you ha' poached me； you ha' given me a hair； it's here； hear。
MORRIS。
Away； you kind ass！ come； sir； dry your eyes：
Keep you old place； and mend these fooleries。
FAULKNER。
I care not to be turned off； and 'twere a ladder； so it be in my
humor； or the Fates beckon to me。 Nay； pray； sir； if the Destinies
spin me a fine thread； Faulkner flies another pitch； and to avoid the
headache hereafter； before I'll be a hairmonger； I'll be a
whoremonger。
＇Exeunt。＇
SCENE III。 Chelsea。 Ante…chamber in More's House。
＇Enter a Messenger to More。＇
MESSENGER。