BECKET.
York against Canterbury, York against God!
I am open to him.
[_Exit_ GRIM.
_Enter_ ROSAMUND _as a Monk_.
ROSAMUND.
Can I speak with you
Alone, my father?
BECKET.
Come you to confess?
ROSAMUND.
Not now.
BECKET.
Then speak; this is my other self,
Who like my conscience never lets me be.
ROSAMUND (_throwing back the cowl_).
I know him; our good John of Salisbury.
BECKET.
Breaking already from thy noviciate
To plunge into this bitter world again--
These wells of Marah. I am grieved, my daughter.
I thought that I had made a peace for thee.
ROSAMUND.
Small peace was mine in my noviciate, father.
Thro' all closed doors a dreadful whisper crept
That thou wouldst excommunicate the King.
I could not eat, sleep, pray: I had with me
The monk's disguise thou gavest me for my bower:
I think our Abbess knew it and allow'd it.
I fled, and found thy name a charm to get me
Food, roof, and rest. I met a robber once,
I told him I was bound to see the Archbishop;
'Pass on,' he said, and in thy name I pass'd
From house to house.
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