We are friends no more: he will say that, not I.
The worldly bond between us is dissolved,
Not yet the love: can I be under him
As Chancellor? as Archbishop over him?
Go therefore like a friend slighted by one
That hath climb'd up to nobler company.
Not slighted--all but moan'd for: thou must go.
I have not dishonour'd thee--I trust I have not;
Not mangled justice. May the hand that next
Inherits thee be but as true to thee
As mine hath been! O, my dear friend, the King!
O brother!--I may come to martyrdom.
I am martyr in myself already.--Herbert!
HERBERT (_re-entering_).
My lord, the town is quiet, and the moon
Divides the whole long street with light and shade.
No footfall--no Fitzurse. We have seen her home.
BECKET.
The hog hath tumbled himself into some corner,
Some ditch, to snore away his drunkenness
Into the sober headache,--Nature's moral
Against excess. Let the Great Seal be sent
Back to the King to-morrow.
HERBERT.
Must that be?
The King may rend the bearer limb from limb
Think on it again.
BECKET.
Against the moral excess
No physical ache, but failure it may be
Of all we aim'd at.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38