SHRIEVE. This fellow was a principal broacher of the broil.
FAULKNER. 'Sblood, I broached none; it was broached and half run out, before I had a lick at it.
SHRIEVE. And would be brought before no justice but your honor.
FAULKNER. I am hailed, my noble lord.
MORE. No ear to choose for every trivial noise but mine, and in so full a time? Away! You wrong me, Master Shrieve: dispose of him At your own pleasure; send the knave to Newgate.
FAULKNER. To Newgate! 'sblood, Sir Thomas More, I appeal, I appeal from Newgate to any of the two worshipful Counters.
MORE. Fellow, whose man are you, that are thus lusty?
FAULKNER. My name's Jack Faulkner; I serve, next under God and my prince, Master Morris, secretary to my Lord of Winchester.
MORE. A fellow of your hair is very fit To be a secretary's follower!
FAULKNER. I hope so, my lord. The fray was between the Bishops' men of Ely and Winchester; and I could not in honor but part them. I thought it stood not with my reputation and degree to come to my questions and answers before a city justice: I knew I should to the pot.
MORE. Thou hast been there, it seems, too late already.
FAULKNER. I know your honor is wise and so forth; and I desire to be only cathecized or examined by you, my noble Lord Chancellor.
MORE. Sirrah, sirrah, you are a busy dangerous ruffian.
FAULKNER. Ruffian!
MORE. How long have you worn this hair?
FAULKNER. I have worn this hair ever since I was born.
MORE. You know that's not my question, but how long Hath this shag fleece hung dangling on they head?
FAULKNER. How long, my lord? why, sometimes thus long, sometimes lower, as the Fates and humors please.
MORE. So quick, sir, with me, ha? I see, good fellow, Thou lovest plain dealing. Sirrah, tell me now, When were you last at barbers? how long time Have you upon your head worn this shag hair?
FAULKNER. My lord, Jack Faulkner tells no Aesops fables: troth, I was not at barbers this three years; I have not been cut not will not be cut, upon a foolish vow, which, as the Destinies shall direct, I am sworn to keep.
MORE. When comes that vow out?
FAULKNER. Why, when the humors are purged, not this three years.
MORE. Vows are recorded in the court of Heaven, For they are holy acts. Young man, I charge thee And do advise thee, start not from that vow: And, for I will be sure thou shalt not shrieve, Besides, because it is an odious sight To see a man thus hairy, thou shalt lie In Newgate till thy vow and thy three years Be full expired.--Away with him!
FAULKNER. My lord--
MORE. Cut off this fleece, and lie there but a month.
FAULKNER. I'll not lose a hair to be Lord Chancellor of Europe.
MORE. To Newgate, then. Sirrah, great sins are bred In all that body where there's a foul head. Away with him.
[Exeunt all except Randall.]
[Enter Surrey, Erasmus, and Attendants.]
SURREY. Now, great Erasmus, you approach the presence Of a most worthy learned gentleman: This little isle holds not a truer friend Unto the arts; nor doth his greatness add A feigned flourish to his worthy parts; He's great in study; that's the statist's grace, That gains more reverence than the outward place.
ERASMUS. Report, my lord, hath crossed the narrow seas, And to the several parts of Christendom, Hath borne the fame of your Lord Chancellor: 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.