MORE. Subscribe these articles! stay, let us pause; Our conscience first shall parley with our laws.— My Lord of Rochester, view you the paper. ROCHESTER. Subscribe to these! now, good Sir Thomas Palmer, Beseech the king that he will pardon me: My heart will check my hand whilst I do write; Subscribing so, I were an hypocrite. PALMER. Do you refuse it, then, my lord? ROCHESTER. I do, Sir Thomas. PALMER. Then here I summon you forthwith t’ appear Before his majesty, to answer there This capital contempt. ROCHESTER. I rise and part, In lieu of this to tender him my heart. [He riseth.] PALMER. Wilt please your honor to subscribe, my lord? MORE. Sir, tell his highness, I entreat Some time for to bethink me of this task: In the meanwhile I do resign mine office Into my sovereign’s hands. PALMER. Then, my lord, Hear the prepared order from the king: On your refusal, you shall straight depart Unto your house at Chelsea, till you know Our sovereign’s further pleasure. MORE. Most willingly I go.— My lords, if you will visit me at Chelsea, We’ll go a fishing, and with a cunning net, Not like weak film, we’ll catch none but the great: Farewell, my noble lords. Why, this is right: Good morrow to the sun, to state good night! [Exit More.] PALMER. Will you subscribe, my lords? SURREY. Instantly, good Sir Thomas, We’ll bring the writing unto our sovereign. [They write.] PALMER. My Lord of Rochester, You must with me, to answer this contempt. ROCHESTER. This is the worst, Who’s freed from life is from all care exempt. [Exit Rochester and Palmer.] SURREY. Now let us hasten to our sovereign. Tis strange that my Lord Chancellor should refuse The duty that the law of God bequeaths Unto the king. SHREWSBURY. Come, let us in. No doubt His mind will alter, and the bishop’s too: Error in learned heads hath much to do. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. Chelsea. [Enter the Lady More, her two Daughters, and Master Roper, as walking.] ROPER. Madame, what ails ye for to look so sad? LADY MORE. Troth, son, I know not what; I am not sick, And yet I am not well. I would be merry; But somewhat lies so heavy on heart, I cannot choose but sigh. You are a scholar; I pray ye, tell me, may one credit dreams? ROPER. Why ask you that, dear madame?