[Kneeling.]
MORE.
Wife, stand up; I have bethought me,
And I’ll now satisfy the king’s good pleasure.
[Pointing to himself.]
BOTH DAUGHTERS.
Oh, happy alteration!
SHREWSBURY.
Come, then, subscribe, my lord.
SURREY.
I am right glad of this your fair conversion.
MORE.
Oh, pardon me!
I will subscribe to go unto the Tower
With all submissive willingness, and thereto add
My bones to strengthen the foundation
Of Julius Caesar’s palace. Now, my lord,
I’ll satisfy the king, even with my blood;
Now will I wrong your patience.—Friend, do thine office.
DOWNES. Sir thomas More, Lord Chancellor of England, I arrest you in the king’s name of high treason.
MORE.
Gramercies, friend.
To a great prison, to discharge the strife
Commenc’d twixt conscience and my frailer life,
More now must march. Chelsea, adieu, adieu!
Strange farewell! thou shalt ne’er more see More true,
For I shall ne’er see thee more.—Servants, farewell.—
Wife, mar not thine indifferent face; be wise:
More’s widow’s husband, he must make thee rise.—
Daughters….: —what’s here, what’s here?
Mine eye had almost parted with a tear.—
Dear son, possess my virtue, that I ne’er gave.—
Grave More thus lightly walks to a quick grave.
ROPER.
Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.