University of Virginia Library

Scene III.—The Palace at Rouen.

Fitz-Urse, William de Tracy, Richard Brito, Hugh de Moreville, courtiers and ladies.
Fitz-Urse.
As good as dead!

De Tracy.
The three-days'-strangled dog
But fouls the air: his bark is heard no more.

Brito.
At Sens the Sacred College frowned upon him;
The Pope disfrocked him; forth he fled by night
To mate him with the antipope: to-day
He lies in dungeon bound.

Lady.
Some swear he's mad;
I think he's wedded.

De More.
No; though secularised;—
He keeps a Flemish farm.

Fitz-Urse
(to De Broc, entering).
What news from home?
Some three weeks since you won the king's permission
To drive that traitor's kin from England's shores.

De Broc.
I bide my time. When winter snows fall fast

That vermin brood shall face it.

[Departs.
Courtier.
Month by month
His hate grows stronger.

Fitz-Urse.
Ay, there's cause for that.

Cour.
The ravished Church lands and the heiress 'scaped?

Fitz-Urse.
And cause beside. On some pretence of law
De Broc drave forth Idonea from the house
Of Becket's sister, Becket three months primate:
The maid took sanctuary in Canterbury.
Instant they sued her as a royal ward;
Judgment against her went. The day had come,
And round the minster knights and nobles watched:
The chimes rang out at noon: then from the gate
Becket walked forth, the maiden by his side;—
Ay, but her garb conventual showed the nun!
They frowned, but dared no more. The king was wroth,
And yet in part amused. De Broc rushed in
With face storm-black. Henry burst forth in laughter;
The infection spread—we laughed till heaven's broad vault
Laughed back to hear us. Well, De Broc's my friend:—
There's reason good that hate in him should prosper.