[_Bell rings for vespers till end of scene_.
You should attend the office, give them heart.
They fear you slain: they dread they know not what.
BECKET.
Ay, monks, not men.
GRIM.
I am a monk, my lord,
Perhaps, my lord, you wrong us.
Some would stand by you to the death.
BECKET.
Your pardon.
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
He said, 'Attend the office.'
BECKET.
Attend the office?
Why then--The Cross!--who bears my Cross before me?
Methought they would have brain'd me with it, John.
[GRIM _takes it_.
GRIM.
I! Would that I could bear thy cross indeed!
BECKET.
The Mitre!
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Will you wear it?--there!
[BECKET _puts on the mitre_.
BECKET.
The Pall!
I go to meet my King! [_Puts on the pall_.
GRIM.
To meet the King?
[_Crashes on the doors as they go out_.
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Why do you move with such a stateliness?
Can you not hear them yonder like a storm,
Battering the doors, and breaking thro' the walls?
BECKET.
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