sir thomas more(托马斯·莫尔骑士)-第8部分
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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
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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。＇
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SIR THOMAS MORE
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；
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SIR THOMAS MORE
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。
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SIR THOMAS MORE
＇Exeunt。＇
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SIR THOMAS MORE
SCENE III。 Chelsea。 Ante…chamber in More's
House。
＇Enter a Messenger to More。＇
MESSENGER。 My honorable lord； the Mayor of London；
Accompanied with his lady and her train； Are coming hither； and are hard
at hand； To feast with you： a servant's come before； To tell your lordship of
there near approach。
MORE。 Why； this is cheerful news： friends go and come： Reverend
Erasmus； who delicious words Express the very soul and life of wit；
Newly took sad leave of me； and with tears Troubled the silver channel of
the Thames； Which； glad of such a burden； proudly swelled And on her
bosom bore him toward the sea： He's gone to Rotterdam； peace go with
him！ He left me heavy when he went from hence； But this recomforts me；
the kind Lord Mayor； His brethren aldermen； with their fair wives； Will
feast this night with us： why； so it should be； More's merry heart lives by
good company。 Good gentlemen； be careful； give great charge Our diet
be made dainty for the taste； For； of all people that the earth affords； The
Londoners fare richest at their boards。
＇Exeunt。＇
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SIR THOMAS MORE
ACT IV。
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SIR THOMAS MORE
SCENE I。 Chelsea。 A Room in More's House。
＇Enter Sir Thomas More； Master Roper； and Servingmen setting
stools。＇
MORE。 Come； my good fellows； stir； be diligent； Sloth is an idle
fellow； leave him now； The time requires your expeditious service。 Place
me here stools； to set the ladies on。 Son Roper； you have given order for
the banquet？
ROPER。 I have； my lord； and every thing is ready。
＇Enter his Lady。＇
MORE。 Oh； welcome； wife！ give you direction How women should be
placed； you know it best。 For my Lord Mayor； his brethren； and the rest；
Let me alone； men best can order men。
LADY。 I warrant ye； my lord； all shall be well。 There's one without
that stays to speak with ye； And bade me tell ye that he is a player。
MORE。 A player； wife！One of ye bid him come in。
＇Exit one。＇
Nay； stir there； fellows； fie； ye are too slow！ See that your lights be in
a readiness： The banquet shall be here。Gods me； madame； Leave my
Lady Mayoress！ both of us from the board！ And my son Roper too！ what
may our guests think？
LADY。 My lord； they are risen； and sitting by the fire。
MORE。 Why； yet go you and keep them company； It is not
