How the good Archbishop reddens!
He never yet could brook the note of scorn.
FITZURSE.
My lord, we bring a message from the King
Beyond the water; will you have it alone,
Or with these listeners near you?
BECKET.
As you will.
FITZURSE.
Nay, as _you_ will.
BECKET.
Nay, as _you_ will.
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Why then
Better perhaps to speak with them apart.
Let us withdraw.
[_All go out except the four_ KNIGHTS _and_ BECKET.
FITZURSE.
We are all alone with him.
Shall I not smite him with his own cross-staff?
DE MORVILLE.
No, look! the door is open: let him be.
FITZURSE.
The King condemns your excommunicating----
BECKET.
This is no secret, but a public matter.
In here again!
[JOHN OF SALISBURY _and_ MONKS _return_.
Now, sirs, the King's commands!
FITZURSE.
The King beyond the water, thro' our voices,
Commands you to be dutiful and leal
To your young King on this side of the water,
Not scorn him for the foibles of his youth.
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