BECKET.
I pray God pardon mine infirmity.
WALTER MAP.
Nay, my lord, take heart; for tho' you suspended yourself, the Pope
let you down again; and tho' you suspend Foliot or another, the Pope
will not leave them in suspense, for the Pope himself is always in
suspense, like Mahound's coffin hung between heaven and earth--always
in suspense, like the scales, till the weight of Germany or the gold
of England brings one of them down to the dust--always in suspense,
like the tail of the horologe--to and fro--tick-tack--we make the
time, we keep the time, ay, and we serve the time; for I have heard
say that if you boxed the Pope's ears with a purse, you might stagger
him, but he would pocket the purse. No saying of mine--Jocelyn of
Salisbury. But the King hath bought half the College of Red-hats. He
warmed to you to-day, and you have chilled him again. Yet you both
love God. Agree with him quickly again, even for the sake of the
Church. My one grain of good counsel which you will not swallow. I
hate a split between old friendships as I hate the dirty gap in the
face of a Cistercian monk, that will swallow anything.
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