My liege, the Lord Fitzurse reported this
In passing to the Castle even now.
RETAINER OF BECKET.
And then they mock'd us and we fell upon 'em,
For we would live and die for thee, my lord,
However kings and queens may frown on thee.
BECKET TO HIS RETAINERS.
Go, go--no more of this!
ELEANOR TO HER RETAINERS.
Away!--(_Exeunt_ RETAINERS) Fitzurse--
BECKET.
Nay, let him be.
ELEANOR.
No, no, my Lord Archbishop,
'Tis known you are midwinter to all women,
But often in your chancellorship you served
The follies of the King.
BECKET.
No, not these follies!
ELEANOR.
My lord, Fitzurse beheld her in your lodging.
BECKET.
Whom?
ELEANOR.
Well--you know--the minion, Rosamund.
BECKET.
He had good eyes!
ELEANOR.
Then hidden in the street
He watch'd her pass with John of Salisbury
And heard her cry 'Where is this bower of mine?'
BECKET.
Good ears too!
ELEANOR.
You are going to the Castle,
Will you subscribe the customs?
BECKET.
I leave that,
Knowing how much you reverence Holy Church,
My liege, to your conjecture.
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