For fear of further mischief.

LORD MAYOR.
It shall be so:
But yond me thinks my lord of Shrewsbury.

[Enter Shrewsbury.]

SHREWSBURY.
My lord, his majesty sends loving thanks
To you, your brethren, and his faithful subjects,
Your careful citizens.--But, Master More, to you
A rougher, yet as kind, a salutation:
A knights creation is this knightly steel.
Rise up, Sir Thomas More.

MORE.
I thank his highness for thus honoring me.

SHREWSBURY.
This is but first taste of his princely favor:
For it hath pleased his high majesty
(Noting your wisdom and deserving merit)
To put this staff of honor in your hand,
For he hath chose you of his Privy Council.

MORE.
My lord, for to deny my sovereign's bounty
Were to drop precious stones into the heaps
Whence they first came;