A Man for All Seasons Page #31

NORFOLK:
I followed you.

MORE follows his glance, seeing:

The rain-wet, puddled towpath. Some distance away, a rowing’boat upended, leaning against the wall. MORE (incredulous)

Were you followed?

NORFOLK:
looks about him, picks up a big stone, hurls it:

It bounces, echoing, leaps and strikes the boat. A moment’s pause. A figure darts out and scuttles away ratlike into the darkness. MORE, horrified, confronts NORFOLK, who nods, grimly.

NORFOLK:

Thomas. You’re dangerous to know!

MORE Then don’t know me.

NORFOLK:
I do know you:

MORE I mean as a friend.

86

NORFOLK:

I am your friend! I wish I wasn’t but I am:

MORE What’s to be done, then?

NORFOLK:
Give in.

He puts a hand on MORE’s arm. Gently, MORE removes it.

MORE:

I can’t give in, Howard.

(smiles)

Our friendship’s more mutable than that.

NORFOLK:

Oh that’s immutable is it? The one fixed point in a world of turning friendship, is that Thomas More will not give in: MORE

(urgent to explain)

To me it has to be, for that’s myself: Affection goes as deep in me as you I think, but only God is love right through; Howard, and that’s my self. NORFOLK And who are you?

He walks away a few paces, and looks MORE up and down.

A lawyer:
And a lawyer’s son: We’re supposed to be the arrogant ones, the proud, splenetic ones—and we’ve all given in: Why must you stand out? Goddammit man, it’s disproportionate: (quick and quiet)

You’ll break my heart.

87 MORE is moved. He goes to NORFOLK and takes his hand.

MORE:

No-one’s safe Howard, and you have a son. We’ll end our friendship now. NORFOLK For friendship’s sake?

MORE Yes.

NORFOLK:
is tempted. But he throws away MORE’s hand and says gloomily: NORFOLK Daft!

MORE looks at him affectionately. Walks away, puts his hands behind his back and says loudly: MORE Norfolk you’re a fool!

The insult produces an automatic reflex. But then NORFOLK folds his arms, snorts. NORFOLK

You can’t place a quarrel Thomas, you haven’t the style.

MORE:

Hear me out. You and your class have given in—as you rightly call it—because the religion of this country means nothing to you one way or the other. NORFOLK

Well that’s a foolish saying for a start. The nobility of England—MORE

The nobility of England my lord would have snored through the Sermon on the Mount! But you’ll labour like scholars, at a bull-dog’s pedigree. NORFOLK begins to breathe hard, but:

88.

NORFOLK:

An artifical quarrel’s not a quarrel,

MORE:

We’ve had a quarrel since the day we met. Our friendship was mere sloth. NORFOLK

You can be cruel when you’ve a mind to be,

but I’ve always known that.

MORE:

What d’you value in your bulldogs? Gripping, is it not?

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