Henry Craik, ed. English Prose. 1916.
Vol. I. Fourteenth to Sixteenth Century
Sir Thomas More (14781535)
W
A marvellous case is it to hear, either the warnings of that he should have voided, or the tokens of that he could not void. For the self night next before his death, the lord Stanley sent a trusty secret messenger unto him at midnight in all the haste, requiring him to rise and ride away with him, for he was disposed utterly no longer to bide; he had so fearful a dream, in which him thought that a boar with his tusks so raced them both by the heads, that the blood ran about both their shoulders. And forasmuch as the protector gave the boar for his cognizance, this dream made so fearful an impression in his heart, that he was thoroughly determined no longer to tarry, but had his horse ready, if the lord Hastings would go with him to ride so far yet the same night, that they should be out of danger ere day. Ay, good lord, quoth the lord Hastings to this messenger, leaneth my lord thy master so much to such trifles, and hath such faith in dreams, which either his own fear fantasieth or do rise in the night’s rest by reason of his day thoughts? Tell him it is plain witchcraft to believe in such dreams; which if they were tokens of things to come, why thinketh he not that we might be as likely to make them true by our going if we were caught and brought back (as friends fail fleers), for then had the boar a cause likely to race us with his tusks, as folk that fled for some falsehood, wherefore either is there no peril (nor none there is indeed), or if any be, it is rather in going than biding. And if we should, needs cost, fall in peril one way or other, yet had I liever that men should see it were by other men’s falsehood, than think it were either our own fault or faint heart. And therefore go to thy master, man, and commend me to him, and pray him be merry and have no fear: for I ensure him I am as sure of the man that he wotteth of, as I am of my own hand. God send grace, sir, quoth the messenger, and went his way.
Certain is it also, that in the riding toward the Tower, the same morning in which he was beheaded, his horse twice or thrice stumbled with him almost to the falling; which thing albeit each man wot well daily happeneth to them to whom no such mischance is toward, yet hath it been, of an old rite and custom, observed as a token often times notably foregoing some great misfortune. Now this that followeth was no warning, but an enemious scorn. The same morning ere he were up, came a knight unto him, as it were of courtesy to accompany him to the council, but of truth sent by the protector to haste him thitherward, with whom he was of secret confederacy in that purpose, a mean man at that time, and now of great authority. This knight when it happed the lord Chamberlain by the way to stay his horse, and commune a while with a priest whom he met in the Tower street, brake his tale and said merrily to him: What, my lord, I pray you come on, whereto talk you so long with that priest, you have no need of a priest yet; and therewith he laughed upon him, as though he would say, ye shall have soon. But so little wist that other what he meant, and so little mistrusted, that he was never merrier nor never so full of good hope in his life; which self thing is often seen a sign of change. But I shall rather let any thing pass me, than the vain surety of man’s mind so near his death. Upon the very Tower wharf, so near the place where his head was off so soon after, there met he with one Hastings, a pursuivant of his own name. And of their meeting in that place, he was put in remembrance of another time, in which it had happened them before to meet in like manner together in the same place. At which other time the lord Chamberlain had been accused unto king Edward, by the lord Rivers the queen’s brother, in such wise that he was for the while (but it lasted not long) far fallen into the king’s indignation, and stood in great fear of himself. And forasmuch as he now met this pursuivant in the same place, that jeopardy so well passed, it gave him great pleasure to talk with him thereof with whom he had before talked thereof in the same place while he was therein. And therefore he said: Ah Hastings, art thou remembered when I met thee here once with an heavy heart? Yea, my lord (quoth he), that remember I well: and thanked be God they gat no good, nor ye none harm thereby. Thou wouldest say so, quoth he, if thou knewest as much as I know, which few know else as yet and more shall shortly. That meant he by the lords of the queen’s kindred that were taken before, and should that day be beheaded at Pomfret: which he well wist, but nothing ware that the axe hung over his own head. In faith, man, quoth he, I was never so sorry, nor never stood in so great dread in my life, as I did when thou and I met here. And lo, how the world is turned, now stand mine enemies in the danger (as thou mayst hap to hear more hereafter) and I never in my life so merry nor never in so great surety. O good God, the blindness of our mortal nature, when he most feared, he was in good surety, when he reckoned himself surest, he lost his life, and that within two hours after. Thus ended this honorable man, a good knight and a gentle, of great authority with his prince, of living somewhat dissolute, plain and open to his enemy, and secret to his friend, eath to beguile, as he that of good heart and courage forestudied no perils. A loving man and passing well beloved. Very faithful, and trusty enough, trusting too much.