Becket and other plays eBook

FITZURSE. 
I and all would be glad to wreak our spite on the
rose-faced minion of the King, and bring her to the
level of the dust, so that the King—­

ELEANOR. 
Let her eat it like the serpent, and be driven out
of her paradise.

ACT ONE.

SCENE I.—­BECKET’S House in London.  Chamber barely furnished.  BECKET unrobing.  HERBERT OF BOSHAM and SERVANT.

SERVANT. 
Shall I not help your lordship to your rest?

BECKET. 
Friend, am I so much better than thyself
That thou shouldst help me?  Thou art wearied out
With this day’s work, get thee to thine own bed. 
Leave me with Herbert, friend. [Exit SERVANT. 
Help me off, Herbert, with this—­and this.

HERBERT. 
Was not the people’s blessing as we past
Heart-comfort and a balsam to thy blood?

BECKET. 
The people know their Church a tower of strength,
A bulwark against Throne and Baronage. 
Too heavy for me, this; off with it, Herbert!

HERBERT. 
Is it so much heavier than thy Chancellor’s robe?

BECKET. 
No; but the Chancellor’s and the Archbishop’s
Together more than mortal man can bear.

HERBERT. 
Not heavier than thine armour at Thoulouse?

BECKET. 
O Herbert, Herbert, in my chancellorship
I more than once have gone against the Church.

HERBERT. 
To please the King?

BECKET. 
                    Ay, and the King of kings,
Or justice; for it seem’d to me but just
The Church should pay her scutage like the lords. 
But hast thou heard this cry of Gilbert Foliot
That I am not the man to be your Primate,
For Henry could not work a miracle—­
Make an Archbishop of a soldier?

HERBERT. 
                                 Ay,
For Gilbert Foliot held himself the man.

BECKET. 
Am I the man?  My mother, ere she bore me,
Dream’d that twelve stars fell glittering out of heaven
Into her bosom.

HERBERT. 
                Ay, the fire, the light,
The spirit of the twelve Apostles enter’d
Into thy making.

BECKET. 
                 And when I was a child,
The Virgin, in a vision of my sleep,
Gave me the golden keys of Paradise.  Dream,
Or prophecy, that?

HERBERT. 
                   Well, dream and prophecy both.

BECKET. 
And when I was of Theobald’s household, once—­
The good old man would sometimes have his jest—­
He took his mitre off, and set it on me,
And said, ’My young Archbishop—­thou wouldst make
A stately Archbishop!’ Jest or prophecy there?

HERBERT. 
Both, Thomas, both.