BECKET.
And that I cannot sign: for that would make Our island-Church a schism from Christendom, And weight down all free choice beneath the throne.
FOLIOT.
And was thine own election so canonical, Good father?
BECKET.
If it were not, Gilbert Foliot, I mean to cross the sea to France, and lay My crozier in the Holy Father"s hands, And bid him re-create me, Gilbert Foliot.
FOLIOT.
Nay; by another of these customs thou Wilt not be suffer"d so to cross the seas Without the license of our lord the King.
BECKET.
That, too, I cannot sign.
DE BROC, DE BRITO, DE TRACY, FITZURSE, DE MORVILLE, _start up--a clash of swords_.
Sign and obey!
BECKET.
My lords, is this a combat or a council?
Are ye my masters, or my lord the King?
Ye make this clashing for no love o" the customs Or const.i.tutions, or whate"er ye call them, But that there be among you those that hold Lands reft from Canterbury.
DE BROC.
And mean to keep them, In spite of thee!
LORDS (_shouting_).
Sign, and obey the crown!
BECKET.
The crown? Shall I do less for Canterbury Than Henry for the crown? King Stephen gave Many of the crown lands to those that helpt him; So did Matilda, the King"s mother. Mark, When Henry came into his own again, Then he took back not only Stephen"s gifts, But his own mother"s, lest the crown should be Shorn of ancestral splendour. This did Henry.
Shall I do less for mine own Canterbury?
And thou, De Broc, that holdest Saltwood Castle--
DE BROC.
And mean to hold it, or--
BECKET.
To have my life.
DE BROC.
The King is quick to anger; if thou anger him, We wait but the King"s word to strike thee dead.
BECKET.
Strike, and I die the death of martyrdom; Strike, and ye set these customs by my death Ringing their own death-knell thro" all the realm.
HERBERT.
And I can tell you, lords, ye are all as like To lodge a fear in Thomas Becket"s heart As find a hare"s form in a lion"s cave.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
Ay, sheathe your swords, ye will displease the King.
DE BROC.
Why down then thou! but an he come to Saltwood, By G.o.d"s death, thou shalt stick him like a calf!
[_Sheathing his sword_.
HILARY.
O my good lord, I do entreat thee--sign.
Save the King"s honour here before his barons.
He hath sworn that thou shouldst sign, and now but shuns The semblance of defeat; I have heard him say He means no more; so if thou sign, my lord, That were but as the shadow of an a.s.sent.
BECKET.
"Twould seem too like the substance, if I sign"d.
PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA.
My lord, thine ear! I have the ear of the Pope.
As thou hast honour for the Pope our master, Have pity on him, sorely prest upon By the fierce Emperor and his Antipope.
Thou knowest he was forced to fly to France; He pray"d me to pray thee to pacify Thy King; for if thou go against thy King, Then must he likewise go against thy King, And then thy King might join the Antipope, And that would shake the Papacy as it stands.
Besides, thy King swore to our cardinals He meant no harm nor damage to the Church.
Smoothe thou his pride--thy signing is but form; Nay, and should harm come of it, it is the Pope Will be to blame--not thou. Over and over He told me thou shouldst pacify the King, Lest there be battle between Heaven and Earth, And Earth should get the better--for the time.
Cannot the Pope absolve thee if thou sign?
BECKET.
Have I the orders of the Holy Father?
PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA.
Orders, my lord--why, no; for what am I?
The secret whisper of the Holy Father.
Thou, that hast been a statesman, couldst thou always Blurt thy free mind to the air?
BECKET.
If Rome be feeble, then should I be firm.
PHILIP.
Take it not that way--balk not the Pope"s will.
When he hath shaken off the Emperor, He heads the Church against the King with thee.
RICHARD DE HASTINGS (_kneeling_).
Becket, I am the oldest of the Templars; I knew thy father; he would be mine age Had he lived now; think of me as thy father!
Behold thy father kneeling to thee, Becket.
Submit; I promise thee on my salvation That thou wilt hear no more o" the customs.
BECKET.
What!
Hath Henry told thee? hast thou talk"d with him?
_Another_ TEMPLAR (_kneeling_).
Father, I am the youngest of the Templars, Look on me as I were thy bodily son, For, like a son, I lift my hands to thee.