More's House.

Enter Butler, Porter, and Horsekeeper several ways.

Butler.
Robin brewer, how now, man! what cheer, what cheer?

Brewer.
Faith, Ned butler, sick of thy disease; and these our other fellows here, Rafe horsekeeper and Giles porter, sad, sad; they say my lord goes to his trial today.

Horsekeeper.
To it, man! why, he is now at it, God send him well to speed!

Porter.
Amen; even as i wish to mine own soul, so speed it with my honorable lord and master, Sir Thomas More.

Butler.
I cannot tell, I have nothing to do with matters above my capacity; but, as God judge me, if I might speak my mind, I think there lives not a more harmless gentleman in the universal world.

Brewer.
Nor a wiser, nor a merrier, nor an honester; go to, I'll put that in upon mine own knowledge.

Porter.
Nay, and ye bait him his due of his housekeeping, hang ye all! ye have many Lord Chancellor's comes in debt at the year's end, and for very housekeeping.

Horsekeeper.
Well, he was too good a lord for us, and therefore, I fear, God himself will take him: but I'll be hanged, if ever I have such an other service.