Sir Thomas More

Page 03

How say ye? do ye subscribe, or are ye faint-hearted revolters?

DOLL. Hold thee, George Betts, there's my hand and my heart: by the Lord, I'll make a captain among ye, and do somewhat to be talk of for ever after.

WILLIAMSON. My masters, ere we part, let's friendly go and drink together, and swear true secrecy upon our lives.

GEORGE. There spake an angel. Come, let us along, then.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. London. The Sessions House.

[An arras is drawn, and behind it as in sessions sit the Lord Mayor, Justice Suresby, and other Justices; Sheriff More and the other Sheriff sitting by. Smart is the plaintiff, Lifter the prisoner at the bar. Recorder, Officers.]

LORD MAYOR. Having dispatched our weightier businesses, We may give ear to petty felonies. Master Sheriff More, what is this fellow?

MORE. My lord, he stands indicted for a purse; He hath been tried, the jury is together.

LORD MAYOR. Who sent him in?

SURESBY. That did I, my lord: Had he had right, he had been hanged ere this; The only captain of the cutpurse crew.

LORD MAYOR. What is his name?

SURESBY. As his profession is, Lifter, my lord, One that can lift a purse right cunningly.

LORD MAYOR. And is that he accuses him?

SURESBY. The same, my lord, whom, by your honors leave, I must say somewhat too, because I find In some respects he is well worthy blame.

LORD MAYOR. Good Master Justice Suresby, speak your mind; We are well pleased to give you audience.

SURESBY. Hear me, Smart; thou art a foolish fellow: If Lifter be convicted by the law, As I see not how the jury can acquit him, I'll stand too 't thou art guilty of his death.

MORE. My lord, that's worthy the hearing.

LORD MAYOR. Listen, then, good Master More.

SURESBY. I tell thee plain, it is a shame for thee, With such a sum to tempt necessity; No less than ten pounds, sir, will serve your turn, To carry in your purse about with ye, To crake and brag in taverns of your money: I promise ye, a man that goes abroad With an intent of truth, meeting such a booty, May be provoked to that he never meant. What makes so many pilferers and felons, But such fond baits that foolish people lay To tempt the needy miserable wretch? Ten pounds, odd money; this is a pretty sum To bear about, which were more safe at home. Fore God, twere well to fine ye as much more

[Lord Mayor and More whisper.]

To the relief of the poor prisoners, To teach ye be more careful of your own, In sooth, I say ye were but rightly served, If ye had lost as much as twice ten pounds.

MORE. Good my lord, sooth a point or two for once, Only to try conclusions in this case.

LORD MAYOR. Content, good Master More: we'll rise awhile, And, till the jury can return their verdict, Walk in the garden.--How say ye, Justices?

ALL. We like it well, my lord; we'll follow ye.

[Exeunt Lord Mayor and Justices.]

MORE. Nay, plaintiff, go you too;--and officers,

[Exeunt Smart.]

Stand you aside, and leave the prisoner To me awhile.--Lifter, come hither.

LIFTER. What is your worship's pleasure?

MORE. Sirrah, you know that you are known to me, And I have often saved ye from this place, Since first I came in office: thou seest beside, That Justice Suresby is thy heavy friend, By all the blame that he pretends to Smart, For tempting thee with such a sum of money. I tell thee what; devise me but a means To pick or cut his purse, and, on my credit, And as I am a Christian and a man, I will procure they pardon for that jest.

LIFTER. Good Master Shrieve, seek not my overthrow: You know, sir, I have many heavy friends, And more indictments like to come upon me. You are too deep for me to deal withal; You are known to be one of the wisest men That is in England: I pray ye, Master Sheriff, Go not about to undermine my life.

MORE. Lifter, I am true subject to my king; Thou much mistake me: and, for thou shall not think I mean by this to hurt thy life at all, I will maintain the act when thou hast done it. Thou knowest there are such matters in my hands, As if I pleased to give them to the jury, I should not need this way to circumvent thee. All that I aim at is a merry jest: Perform it, Lifter, and expect my best.

William Shakespeare
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