BECKET.
God's will be done!
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Ay, well. God's will be done!
GRIM (_re-entering_).
My lord, the knights are arming in the garden
Beneath the sycamore.
BECKET.
Good! let them arm.
GRIM.
And one of the De Brocs is with them, Robert,
The apostate monk that was with Randulf here.
He knows the twists and turnings of the place.
BECKET.
No fear!
GRIM.
No fear, my lord.
[_Crashes on the hall-doors. The_ MONKS _flee_.
BECKET (_rising_).
Our dovecote flown!
I cannot tell why monks should all be cowards.
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Take refuge in your own cathedral, Thomas.
BECKET.
Do they not fight the Great Fiend day by day?
Valour and holy life should go together.
Why should all monks be cowards?
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Are they so?
I say, take refuge in your own cathedral.
BECKET.
Ay, but I told them I would wait them here.
GRIM.
May they not say you dared not show yourself
In your old place? and vespers are beginning.
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