HENRY.

His cross! it is the traitor that imputes Treachery to his King!

It is not safe for me to look upon him.

Away--with me!

[_Goes in with his_ BARONS _to the Council Chamber, the door of which is left open_.

_Enter_ BECKET, _holding his cross of silver before him_.

_The_ BISHOPS _come round him_.

HEREFORD.

The King will not abide thee with thy cross.

Permit me, my good lord, to bear it for thee, Being thy chaplain.

BECKET.

No: it must protect me.

HERBERT.

As once he bore the standard of the Angles, So now he bears the standard of the angels.

FOLIOT.

I am the Dean of the province: let me bear it.

Make not thy King a traitorous murderer.

BECKET.

Did not your barons draw their swords against me?

_Enter_ ROGER OF YORK, _with his cross, advancing to_ BECKET.

BECKET.

Wherefore dost thou presume to bear thy cross, Against the solemn ordinance from Rome, Out of thy province?

ROGER OF YORK.

Why dost thou presume, Arm'd with thy cross, to come before the King?

If Canterbury bring his cross to court, Let York bear his to mate with Canterbury.

FOLIOT (_seizing hold of_ BECKET'S _cross_).

Nay, nay, my lord, thou must not brave the King.

Nay, let me have it. I will have it!

BECKET.

Away!

[_Flinging him off_.

FOLIOT.

_He_ fasts, they say, this mitred Hercules!

_He_ fast! is that an arm of fast? My lord, Hadst thou not sign'd, I had gone along with thee; But thou the shepherd hast betray'd the sheep, And thou art perjured, and thou wilt not seal.

As Chancellor thou wast against the Church, Now as Archbishop goest against the King; For, like a fool, thou knowst no middle way.

Ay, ay! but art thou stronger than the King?

BECKET.

Strong--not in mine own self, but Heaven; true To either function, holding it; and thou Fast, scourge thyself, and mortify thy flesh, Not spirit--thou remainest Gilbert Foliot, A worldly follower of the worldly strong.

I, bearing this great ensign, make it clear Under what Prince I fight.

FOLIOT.

My lord of York, Let us go in to the Council, where our bishops And our great lords will sit in judgment on him.

BECKET.

Sons sit in judgment on their father!--then The spire of Holy Church may p.r.i.c.k the graves-- Her crypt among the stars. Sign? seal? I promised The King to obey these customs, not yet written, Saving mine order; true too, that when written I sign'd them--being a fool, as Foliot call'd me.

I hold not by my signing. Get ye hence, Tell what I say to the King.

[_Exeunt_ HEREFORD, FOLIOT, _and other_ BISHOPS.

ROGER OF YORK.

The Church will hate thee.

[_Exit_.

BECKET.

Serve my best friend and make him my worst foe; Fight for the Church, and set the Church against me!

HERBERT.

To be honest is to set all knaves against thee.

Ah! Thomas, excommunicate them all!

HEREFORD (_re-entering_).

I cannot brook the turmoil thou hast raised.

I would, my lord Thomas of Canterbury, Thou wert plain Thomas and not Canterbury, Or that thou wouldst deliver Canterbury To our King's hands again, and be at peace.

HILARY (_re-entering_).

For hath not thine ambition set the Church This day between the hammer and the anvil-- Fealty to the King, obedience to thyself?

HERBERT.

What say the bishops?

HILARY.

Some have pleaded for him, But the King rages--most are with the King; And some are reeds, that one time sway to the current, And to the wind another. But we hold Thou art forsworn; and no forsworn Archbishop Shall helm the Church. We therefore place ourselves Under the shield and safeguard of the Pope, And cite thee to appear before the Pope, And answer thine accusers.... Art thou deaf?

BECKET.

I hear you. [_Clash of arms_.

HILARY.

Dost thou hear those others?

BECKET.

Ay!

ROGER OF YORK (_re-entering_).

The King's 'G.o.d's eyes!' come now so thick and fast, We fear that he may reave thee of thine own.