BECKET.

Send back again those exiles of my kin Who wander famine-wasted thro' the world.

HENRY.

Have I not promised, man, to send them back?

BECKET.

Yet one thing more. Thou hast broken thro' the pales Of privilege, crowning thy young son by York, London and Salisbury--not Canterbury.

HENRY.

York crown'd the Conqueror--not Canterbury.

BECKET.

There was no Canterbury in William's time.

HENRY.

But Hereford, you know, crown'd the first Henry.

BECKET.

But Anselm crown'd this Henry o'er again.

HENRY.

And thou shalt crown my Henry o'er again.

BECKET.

And is it then with thy good-will that I Proceed against thine evil councillors, And hurl the dread ban of the Church on those Who made the second mitre play the first, And acted me?

HENRY.

Well, well, then--have thy way!

It may be they were evil councillors.

What more, my lord Archbishop? What more, Thomas?

I make thee full amends. Say all thy say, But blaze not out before the Frenchmen here.

BECKET.

More? Nothing, so thy promise be thy deed.

HENRY (_holding out his hand_).

Give me thy hand. My Lords of France and England, My friend of Canterbury and myself Are now once more at perfect amity.

Unkingly should I be, and most unknightly, Not striving still, however much in vain, To rival him in Christian charity.

HERBERT.

All praise to Heaven, and sweet St. Magdalen!

HENRY.

And so farewell until we meet in England.

BECKET.

I fear, my liege, we may not meet in England.

HENRY.

How, do you make me a traitor?

BECKET.

No, indeed!

That be far from thee.

HENRY.

Come, stay with us, then, Before you part for England.

BECKET.

I am bound For that one hour to stay with good King Louis, Who helpt me when none else.

HERBERT.

He said thy life Was not one hour's worth in England save King Henry gave thee first the kiss of peace.

HENRY.

He said so? Louis, did he? look you, Herbert.

When I was in mine anger with King Louis, I sware I would not give the kiss of peace, Not on French ground, nor any ground but English, Where his cathedral stands. Mine old friend, Thomas, I would there were that perfect trust between us, That health of heart, once ours, ere Pope or King Had come between us! Even now--who knows?-- I might deliver all things to thy hand-- If ... but I say no more ... farewell, my lord.

BECKET.

Farewell, my liege!

[_Exit_ HENRY, _then the_ BARONS _and_ BISHOPS.

WALTER MAP.

There again! when the full fruit of the royal promise might have dropt into thy mouth hadst thou but opened it to thank him.

BECKET.

He fenced his royal promise with an _if_.

WALTER MAP.

And is the King's _if_ too high a stile for your lordship to overstep and come at all things in the next field?

BECKET.

Ay, if this _if_ be like the Devil's '_if_ Thou wilt fall down and worship me.'

HERBERT.

Oh, Thomas; I could fall down and worship thee, my Thomas, For thou hast trodden this wine-press alone.

BECKET.

Nay, of the people there are many with me.

WALTER MAP.

I am not altogether with you, my lord, tho' I am none of those that would raise a storm between you, lest ye should draw together like two ships in a calm. You wrong the King: he meant what he said to-day. Who shall vouch for his to-morrows? One word further. Doth not the _fewness_ of anything make the fulness of it in estimation? Is not virtue prized mainly for its rarity and great baseness loathed as an exception: for were all, my lord, as n.o.ble as yourself, who would look up to you? and were all as base as--who shall I say--Fitzurse and his following--who would look down upon them? My lord, you have put so many of the King's household out of communion, that they begin to smile at it.

BECKET.

At their peril, at their peril--

WALTER MAP.

--For tho' the drop may hollow out the dead stone, doth not the living skin thicken against perpetual whippings?