I am not he! I am not he, my lord.
I am not he indeed!
FITZURSE.
Hence to the fiend!
[_Pushes him away_.
Where is this treble traitor to the King?
DE TRACY.
Where is the Archbishop, Thomas Becket?
BECKET.
Here.
No traitor to the King, but Priest of God,
Primate of England.
[_Descending into the transept_.
I am he ye seek.
What would ye have of me?
FlTZURSE.
Your life.
DE TRACY.
Your life.
DE MORVILLE.
Save that you will absolve the bishops.
BECKET.
Never,--
Except they make submission to the Church.
You had my answer to that cry before.
DE MORVILLE.
Why, then you are a dead man; flee!
BECKET.
I will not.
I am readier to be slain, than thou to slay.
Hugh, I know well thou hast but half a heart
To bathe this sacred pavement with my blood.
God pardon thee and these, but God's full curse
Shatter you all to pieces if ye harm
One of my flock!
FITZURSE.
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