ROPER. Good sir, be still yourself, and but remember How in this general court of short-lived pleasure, The world, creation is the ample food That is digested in the maw of time: If man himself be subject to such ruin, How shall his garment, then, or the loose points That tie respect unto his awful place, Avoid destruction? Most honored father-in-law, The blood you have bequeathed these several hearts To nourish your posterity, stands firm; And, as with joy you led us first to rise, So with like hearts we'll lock preferment's eyes.
MORE. Close them not, then, with tears: for that ostent Gives a wet signal of your discontent. If you will share my fortunes, comfort then; An hundred smiles for one sigh: what! we are men: Resign wet passion to these weaker eyes, Which proves their sex, but grants it ne'er more wise. Let's now survey our state. Here sits my wife, And dear esteemed issue; yonder stand My loving servants: now the difference Twixt those and these. Now you shall hear my speak Like More in melancholy. I conceive that nature Hath sundry metals, out of which she frames Us mortals, each in valuation Outprizing other: of the finest stuff The finest features come: the rest of earth, Receive base fortune even before their birth; Hence slaves have their creation; and I think Nature provides content for the base mind; Under the whip, the burden, and the toil, Their low-wrought bodies drudge in patience; As for the prince in all his sweet-gorged maw, And his rank flesh, that sinfully renews The noon's excess in the night's dangerous surfeits. What means or misery from our birth doth flow Nature entitles to us; that we owe: But we, being subject to the rack of hate, Falling from happy life to bondage state, Having seen better days, now know the lack Of glory that once reared each high-fed back. But you, that in your age did ne'er view better, Challenged not fortune for your thriftless debter.
CATESBY. Sir, we have seen far better days than these.
MORE. I was the patron of those days, and know Those were but painted days, only for show. Then grieve not you to fall with him that gave them: Generosis servis gloriosum mori. Dear Gough, thou art my learned secretary; You, Master Catesby, steward of my house; The rest like you have had fair time to grow In sun-shine of my fortunes. But I must tell ye, Corruption is fled hence with each man's office; Bribes, that make open traffic twixt the soul And netherland of hell, deliver up Their guilty homage to the second lords. Then, living thus untainted, you are well: Truth is no pilot for the land of hell.
[Enter a Servant.]
SERVANT. My lord, there are new lighted at the gate The Earls of Surrey and of Shrewsbury, And they expect you in the inner court.
MORE. Entreat their lordships come into the hall.
[Exit Servant.]
LADY MORE. Oh, God, what news with them?
MORE. Why, how now, wife! They are but come to visit their old friend.
LADY MORE. Oh, God, I fear, I fear!
MORE. What shouldst thou fear, fond woman? Justum, si fractus illabatur orbis, inpavidum ferient ruinae. Here let me live estranged from great men's looks; They are like golden flies on leaden hooks.
[Enter the Earls, Downs with his mace, and Attendants.]
SHREWSBURY. Good morrow, good Sir Thomas.
[Kind salutations.]
SURREY. Good day, good madame.
MORE. Welcome, my good lords. What ails your lordships look so melancholy? Oh, I know; you live in court, and the court diet Is only friend to physic.
SURREY. Oh, Sir Thomas, Our words are now the kings, and our sad looks The interest of your love! We are sent to you From our mild sovereign, once more to demand If you'll subscribe unto those articles He sent ye th' other day: be well advised; For, on mine honor, lord, grave Doctor Fisher Bishop of Rochester, at the self same instant Attached with you, is sent unto the Tower For the like obstinacy: his majesty Hath only sent you prisoner to your house; But, if you now refuse for to subscribe, A stricter course will follow.