I marked a group of lazars in the
marketplace--half-rag, half-sore--beggars, poor rogues (Heaven bless
'em) who never saw nor dreamed of such a banquet. I will amaze them.
Call them in, I say. They shall henceforward be my earls and barons--
our lords and masters in Christ Jesus.
[_Exit_ HERBERT.
If the King hold his purpose, I am myself a beggar. Forty thousand
marks! forty thousand devils--and these craven bishops!
_A_ POOR MAN _(entering) with his dog_.
My lord Archbishop, may I come in with my poor friend, my dog? The
King's verdurer caught him a-hunting in the forest, and cut off his
paws. The dog followed his calling, my lord. I ha' carried him ever so
many miles in my arms, and he licks my face and moans and cries out
against the King.
BECKET.
Better thy dog than thee. The King's courts would use thee worse than
thy dog--they are too bloody. Were the Church king, it would be
otherwise. Poor beast! poor beast! set him down. I will bind up his
wounds with my napkin. Give him a bone, give him a bone! Who misuses a
dog would misuse a child--they cannot speak for themselves.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65