HERBERT.
Whatever he say,
Deny not thou God's honour for a king.
The King looks troubled.
_Re-enter_ KING LOUIS.
LOUIS.
My dear lord Archbishop,
I learn but now that those poor Poitevins,
That in thy cause were stirr'd against King Henry,
Have been, despite his kingly promise given
To our own self of pardon, evilly used
And put to pain. I have lost all trust in him.
The Church alone hath eyes--and now I see
That I was blind--suffer the phrase--surrendering
God's honour to the pleasure of a man.
Forgive me and absolve me, holy father. [_Kneels_.
BECKET.
Son, I absolve thee in the name of God.
LOUIS (_rising_).
Return to Sens, where we will care for you.
The wine and wealth of all our France are yours;
Rest in our realm, and be at peace with all.
[_Exeunt_.
_Voices from the Crowd_.
Long live the good King Louis! God bless the great Archbishop!
_Re-enter_ HENRY _and_ JOHN OF OXFORD.
HENRY (_looking after_ KING LOUIS _and_ BECKET).
Ay, there they go--both backs are turn'd to me--
Why then I strike into my former path
For England, crown young Henry there, and make
Our waning Eleanor all but love me!
John,
Thou hast served me heretofore with Rome--and well.
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