say, ‘For this release, much thanks. . . . And how goes the court, Meg?’ “‘In faith, father, never better. . . . There is nothing else there, I hear, but dancing and disporting.’ “‘Never better, child, sayst thou? Alas, Meg, it pitieth me to consider what misery, poor soul, she will shortlie come to. These dances of hers will prove such dances that she will spurn our heads off like footballs; but ’twill not be long ere her head will dance the like dance. Mark you, Meg, a man that restraineth not his passions, hath always something cruel in his nature, and if there be a woman toward, she is sure to suffer heaviest for it, first or last. . . . Seek Scripture precedent for’t . . . you’ll find it as I say. Stony as death, cruel as the grave. Those Pharisees that there, to a man, convicted of sin, yet haled a sinning woman before the Lord, and woulde fain have seen the dogs lick up her blood. When they lick up mine, deare Meg, let not your heart be troubled, even though they shoulde hale thee to London Bridge to see my head stuck on a pole. Think, most dear’st, I shall then have more reason to weep for thee than thou for me. But there’s noe weeping in heaven, and bear in mind, Meg, distinctlie, that if they send me thither, ’twill be for obeying the law of God rather than of men. And after alle, we live not in the bloody, barbarous old times of crucifyings and flayings, and immerseings in cauldrons of boiling oil. One stroke, and the affair’s done. A clumsy chirurgeon would be longer extracting a tooth. We have oft agreed that the little birds struck down by the kite and hawk suffer less than if they were reserved to a naturall death. There is one sensible difference, indeed, between us. In our cases, preparation is a-wanting.’ “Hereon, I minded me to slip off y^{e} haircloth and rope, and give the same to him, along with the books and suckets, all which he hid away privatelie, making merry at the last. “‘’Twoulde tell well before the council,’ quoth he, ‘that on searching the prison-cell of Sir Thomas More, there was founde, flagitiouslie and mysteriouslie laid up . . . a piece of barley-sugar!’ “Then we talked over sundry home matters; and anon, having now both of us attayned unto an equable and chastened serenite of mind, which needed not any false shows of mirth to hide y^{e} naturall complexion of, he sayth, ‘I believe, Meg, they that have put me here ween they have done me a high displeasure; but I assure thee on my faith, mine own good daughter, that if it had not beene for my wife, and you, my dear good children, I would faine have been closed up, long ere this, in as straight a room, and straighter too.’”