Biographical fiction; Christian fiction; Christian saints -- Fiction; More, Thomas, Saint, 1478-1535 -- Fiction
"Why, then I said, '_Bone Deus_, Man! _Bone Deus!_ will this Gear
never be left?' So then he sayth, 'Well then, Mrs. _Alice_, if it be
soe, 'tis mighty well, but, for my Part, I see no greate Reason why I
shoulde much joy in my gay House, or in Aniething belonging thereunto,
when, if I shoulde be but seven Years buried underground, and then
arise and come thither agayn, I shoulde not fail to find Some therein
that woulde bid me get out of Doors, and tell me 'twas none o' mine.
What Cause have I, then, to care soe greatlie for a House that woulde
soe soone forget its Master?'"
"And then, _Mother_? and then?"
"Soe then, Sweetheart, he sayth, 'Come tell me, Mrs. _Alice_, how
long do you think we might reckon on living to enjoy it?' Soe I say,
'Some twenty Years, forsooth.' 'In faith,' says he, 'had you said
some thousand Years, it had beene Somewhat; and yet he were a very
bad Merchant that woulde put himselfe in Danger to lose Eternity for
a thousand Years ... how much the rather if we are not sure to enjoy
it one Day to an End?' Soe then he puts me off with Questions, How
is _Will_? and _Daisy_? and _Rupert_? and this one? and t'other one?
and the Peacocks? and Rabbits? and have we elected a new King of the
Cob-loaf yet? and has _Tom_ found his Hoop? and is the Hasp of the
Buttery-hatch mended yet? and how goes the Court? and what was the
Text o' _Sunday_? and have I practised the Viol? and how are we off
for Money? and why can't he see _Meg_? Then he asks for this Book and
t'other Book, but I've forgot their Names, and he sayth he's kept
mighty short of Meat, though 'tis little he eats, but his Man _John a
Wood_ is gay an' hungry, and 'tis worth a World to see him at a salt
Herring. Then he gives me Counsell of this and that, and puts his Arm
about me and says, 'Come, let us pray;' but while he kept praying for
one and t'other, I kept a-counting of his gray Hairs; he'd none a Month
agone. And we're scarce off our Knees, when I'm fetched away; and I
say, 'When will you change your Note, and act like a wise Man?' and he
sayth, 'When? when?' looking very profound; 'why, ... when Gorse is
out of Blossom and Kissing out of Fashion.' Soe puts me forthe by the
Shoulders with a Laugh, calling after me, 'Remember me over and over
agayn to them alle, and let me see _Meg_.'"
... I feel as if a String were tied tight about my Heart. Methinketh
'twill burst if we goe on long soe.
_July 25th._
He hath writ us a few Lines with a Coal, ending with "_Sursum Corda_,
dear Children! up with your Hearts." The Bearer was dear _Bonvisi_.
_Aug. 16th._
The LORD begins to cut us short. We are now on very meagre Commons,
dear _Mother_ being obliged to pay fifteen Shillings a week for the
Board, poor as it is, of _Father_ and his Servant. She hath parted with
her Velvet Gown, embroidered overthwart, to my Lady _Sands'_ Woman. Her
Mantle edged with Coney went long ago.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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