BECKET.

As you would force a king from being crown'd.

JOHN OF SALISBURY.

We must not force the crown of martyrdom.

[_Service stops_. MONKS _come down from the stairs that lead to the choir_.

MONKS.

Here is the great Archbishop! He lives! he lives!

Die with him, and be glorified together.

BECKET.

Together?... get you back! go on with the office.

MONKS.

Come, then, with us to vespers.

BECKET.

How can I come When you so block the entry? Back, I say!

Go on with the office. Shall not Heaven be served Tho' earth's last earthquake clash'd the minster-bells, And the great deeps were broken up again, And hiss'd against the sun? [_Noise in the cloisters_.

MONKS.

The murderers, hark!

Let us hide! let us hide!

BECKET.

What do these people fear?

MONKS.

Those arm'd men in the cloister.

BECKET.

Be not such cravens!

I will go out and meet them.

GRIM _and others_.

Shut the doors!

We will not have him slain before our face.

[_They close the doors of the transept. Knocking_.

Fly, fly, my lord, before they burst the doors!

[_Knocking_.

BECKET.

Why, these are our own monks who follow'd us!

And will you bolt them out, and have _them_ slain?

Undo the doors: the church is not a castle: Knock, and it shall be open'd. Are you deaf?

What, have I lost authority among you?

Stand by, make way!

[_Opens the doors. Enter_ MONKS _from cloister_.

Come in, my friends, come in!

Nay, faster, faster!

MONKS.

Oh, my lord Archbishop, A score of knights all arm'd with swords and axes-- To the choir, to the choir!

[_Monks divide, part flying by the stairs on the right, part by those on the left. The rush of these last bears_ BECKET _along with them some way up the steps, where he is left standing alone_.

BECKET.

Shall I too pa.s.s to the choir, And die upon the Patriarchal throne Of all my predecessors?

JOHN OF SALISBURY.

No, to the crypt!

Twenty steps down. Stumble not in the darkness, Lest they should seize thee.

GRIM.

To the crypt? no--no, To the chapel of St. Blaise beneath the roof!

JOHN OF SALISBURY (_pointing upward and downward_).

That way, or this! Save thyself either way.

BECKET.

Oh, no, not either way, nor any way Save by that way which leads thro' night to light.

Not twenty steps, but one.

And fear not I should stumble in the darkness, Not tho' it be their hour, the power of darkness, But my hour too, the power of light in darkness!

I am not in the darkness but the light, Seen by the Church in Heaven, the Church on earth-- The power of life in death to make her free!

[_Enter the four_ KNIGHTS. JOHN OF SALISBURY _flies to the altar of St. Benedict_.

FITZURSE.

Here, here, King's men!

[Catches hold of the last flying MONK.

Where is the traitor Becket?

MONK.

I am not he! I am not he, my lord.

I am not he indeed!

FITZURSE.

Hence to the fiend!

[_Pushes him away_.

Where is this treble traitor to the King?

DE TRACY.

Where is the Archbishop, Thomas Becket?

BECKET.

Here.

No traitor to the King, but Priest of G.o.d, Primate of England.

[_Descending into the transept_.