[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 meet we should be absent both.
[Exit Lady.] [Enter Player.]
Welcome, good friend; what is you will with me?
PLAYER. My lord, my fellows and myself Are come to tender ye our willing service, So please you to command us.
MORE. What, for a play, you mean? Whom do ye serve? PLAYER. My Lord Cardinal's grace.
MORE. My Lord Cardinal's players! now, trust me, welcome; You happen hither in a lucky time, To pleasure me, and benefit yourselves. The Mayor of London and some aldermen, His lady and their wives, are mykind guests This night at supper: now, to have a play Before the banquet, will be excellent.-- How think you, son Roper?
ROPER. 'Twill do well, my lord, And be right pleasing pastime to your guests.
MORE. I prithee, tell me, what plays have ye?
PLAYER. Diverse, my lord: The Cradle of Security, His nail o' the head, Impatient Poverty, The play of Four Peas, Dives and Lazarus, Lusty Juventus, and The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom.
MORE. The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom! that, my lads; I'll none but that; the theme is very good, And may maintain a liberal argument: To marry wit to wisdom, asks some cunning; Many have wit, that may come short of wisdom. We'll see how Master poet plays his part, And whether wit or wisdom grace his art.-- Go, make him drink, and all his fellows too.-- How many are ye?
PLAYER. Four men and a boy, sir.
MORE. But one boy? then I see, There's but few women in the play.
PLAYER. Three, my lord; Dame Science, Lady Vanity, And Wisdom she herself.
MORE. And one boy play them all? by our Lady, he's laden. Well, my good fellow, get ye straight together, And make ye ready with what haste ye may.-- Proud their supper gainst the play be done, Else shall we stay our guests here over long.-- Make haste, I pray ye.
PLAYER. We will, my lord. [Exit Servant and Player.]
MORE. Where are the waits? go, big them play, To spend the time a while.
[Enter Lady.]
How now, madame?
LADY. My lord, th' are coming hither.
MORE. Th' are welcome. Wife, I'll tell ye one thing; One sport is somewhat mended; we shall have A play tonight, The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom, And acted by my good Lord Cardinal's players; How like ye that, wife?
LADY. My lord, I like it well. See, they are coming.
[The waits plays; enter Lord Mayor, so many Aldermen as may, the Lady Mayoress in scarlet, with other Ladies and Sir Thomas More's Daughters; Servants carrying lighted torches by them.]
MORE. Once again, welcome, welcome, my good Lord Mayor, And brethren all, for once I was your brother, And so I am still in heart: it is not state That can our love from London separate. True, upstart fools, by sudden fortune tried, Regard their former mates with naught but pride. But they that cast an eye still whence they came, Know how they rose, and how to use the same.
LORD MAYOR. My lord, you set a gloss on London's fame, And make it happy ever by your name. Needs must we say, when we remember More, 'Twas he that drove rebellion from our door With grave discretions mild and gentle breath, Oh, how our city is by you renowned, And with your virtues our endeavors crowned!
MORE. No more, my good Lord Mayor: but thanks to all, That on so short a summons you would come To visit him that holds your kindness dear.-- Madame, you are not merry with my Lady Mayoress And these fair ladies; pray ye, seat them all:-- And here, my lord, let me appoint your place;-- The rest to seat themselves:--nay, I'll weary ye; You will not long in haste to visit me.
LADY. Good madame, sit; in sooth, you shall sit here.
LADY MAYORESS. Good madame, pardon me; it may not be. LADY. In troth, I'll have it so: I'll sit here by ye.-- Good ladies, sit.--More stools here, ho!
LADY MAYORESS. It is your favour, madame, makes me thus Presume above my merit.
LADY. When we come to you, Then shall you rule us as we rule you here. Now must I tell ye, madame, we have a play, To welcome ye withal; how good so ere, That know not I; my lord will have it so.
MORE. Wife, hope the best; I am sure they'll do their best: They that would better, comes not at their feast. My good Lord Cardinal's players, I thank them for it, Play us a play, to lengthen out your welcome: They say it is The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom, A theme of some import, how ere it prove; But, if art fail, we'll inch it out with love.--[Enter a Servant.] What, are they ready?
SERVANT. My lord, one of the players craves to speak with you. MORE. With me! where is he?
[Enter Inclination, the Vice, ready.] INCLINATION. Here, my lord. MORE. How now! what's the matter?
INCLINATION. We would desire your honor but to stay a little; one of my fellows is but run to Oagles for a long beard for young Wit, and he'll be here presently.
MORE. A long beard for young Wit! why, man, he may be without a beard till he come to marriage, for wit goes not all by the hair. When comes Wit in?
INCLINATION. In the second scene, next to the Prologue, my lord.
MORE. Why, play on till that scene come, and by that time Wit's beard will be grown, or else the fellow returned with it. And what part playest thou?
