... Art thou deaf?
BECKET.
I hear you. [_Clash of arms_.
HILARY.
Dost thou hear those others?
BECKET.
Ay!
ROGER OF YORK (_re-entering_).
The King's 'God's eyes!' come now so thick and fast,
We fear that he may reave thee of thine own.
Come on, come on! it is not fit for us
To see the proud Archbishop mutilated.
Say that he blind thee and tear out thy tongue.
BECKET.
So be it. He begins at top with me:
They crucified St. Peter downward.
ROGER OF YORK.
Nay,
But for their sake who stagger betwixt thine
Appeal, and Henry's anger, yield.
BECKET.
Hence, Satan!
[_Exit_ ROGER OF YORK.
FITZURSE (re-entering),
My lord, the King demands three hundred marks,
Due from his castles of Berkhamstead and Eye
When thou thereof wast warden.
BECKET.
Tell the King
I spent thrice that in fortifying his castles.
DE TRACY (_re-entering_.)
My lord, the King demands seven hundred marks,
Lent at the siege of Thoulouse by the King.
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