Sir Thomas More
Act II, Scene 3
The Guildhall.
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Enter at one door Sir Thomas More and Lord Mayor; at another
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door Sir John Munday hurt.
Lord Mayor
1
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What, Sir John Munday, are you hurt?
Munday
2 - 6
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A little knock, my lord. There was even now
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A sort of prentices playing at cudgels;
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I did command them to their masters’ houses;
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But now, I fear me, they are gone to join
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With Lincoln, Sherwin, and their dangerous train.
More
7 - 16
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The captains of this insurrection
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Have taken themselves to arms, and came but now
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To both the Counters, where they have released
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Sundry indebted prisoners, and from thence
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I hear that they are gone into St. Martin’s,
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Where they intend to offer violence
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To the amazed Lombards. Therefore, my lord,
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If we expect the safety of the city,
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Tis time that force or parley do encounter
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With these displeasèd men.
Lord Mayor
17
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How now! What news?
Second Messenger
18 - 21
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My lord, the rebels have broke open Newgate,
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From whence they have delivered many prisoners,
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Both felons and notorious murderers,
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That desperately cleave to their lawless train.
Lord Mayor
22 - 25
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Up with the drawbridge, gather some forces
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To Cornhill and Cheapside:—and, gentlemen,
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If diligence be weighed on every side,
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A quiet ebb will follow this rough tide.
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Enter Shrewsbury, Surrey, Palmer, and Cholmley.
Shrewsbury
26 - 33
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Lord Mayor, his majesty, receiving notice
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Of this most dangerous insurrection,
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Hath sent my lord of Surrey and myself,
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Sir Thomas Palmer and our followers,
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To add unto your forces our best means
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For pacifying of this mutiny.
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In God’s name, then, set on with happy speed!
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The king laments, if one true subject bleed.
Surrey
34 - 36
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I hear they mean to fire the Lombards’ houses:
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Oh power, what art thou in a madman’s eyes!
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Thou mak’st the plodding idiot bloody-wise.
More
37 - 39
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My lords, I doubt not but we shall appease
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With a calm breath this flux of discontent:
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To call them to a parley, questionless—
Palmer
40
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May fall out good. ’Tis well said, Master More.
More
41 - 50
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Let’s to these simple men; for many sweat
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Under this act, that knows not the law’s debt
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Which hangs upon their lives; for silly men
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Plod on they know not how, like a fool’s pen,
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That, ending, shows not any sentence writ,
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Linked but to common reason or slightest wit:
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These follow for no harm; but yet incur
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Self penalty with those that raised this stir.
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I’God’s name, on, to calm our private foes
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With breath of gravity, not dangerous blows!
