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.
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