I spoke of late to the boy, he answer'd me,
As if he wore the crown already--No,
We will not have him crown'd.
'Tis true what Becket told me, that the mother
Would make him play his kingship against mine.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
Not have him crown'd?
HENRY.
Not now--not yet! and Becket
Becket should crown him were he crown'd at all:
But, since we would be lord of our own manor,
This Canterbury, like a wounded deer,
Has fled our presence and our feeding-grounds.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
Cannot a smooth tongue lick him whole again
To serve your will?
HENRY.
He hates my will, not me.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
There's York, my liege.
HENRY.
But England scarce would hold
Young Henry king, if only crown'd by York,
And that would stilt up York to twice himself.
There is a movement yonder in the crowd--
See if our pious--what shall I call him, John?--
Husband-in-law, our smooth-shorn suzerain,
Be yet within the field.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
I will. [_Exit_.
HENRY.
Ay! Ay!
Mince and go back! his politic Holiness
Hath all but climb'd the Roman perch again,
And we shall hear him presently with clapt wing
Crow over Barbarossa--at last tongue-free
To blast my realms with excommunication
And interdict.
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