 | Thomas À Becket |  |
SCENE I.
The King's Closet.Henry and Fitz-Urse.
Henry.
Old Theobald is dead: well, Heaven send him
More peace than he gave us from fractious monks,
Our mild Archbishop!
Fitz-Urse.
He's not stiffer now
In body than he ever was in spirit.
Henry.
By Mahound thou say'st true, rugged-mouth'd Reginald!
Your lawn-lapt bishop is less flexible
Than baron stark in steel. The Christian Pharisees!
Fitz-Urse.
Dog's death to them, and ass's burial
Outside the gates!
Henry.
We'll crush them, Reginald!
We 'll crush the stiff-necked shavelings now, if any
Iron be in this arm!—Go you and haste
The Council—let me see—to the Red Chamber:
They've had a summons; haste them!
[Exit Fitz-Urse.
24
Not that his learning, wisdom, and state-craft,
So much commend him to the office; nor
That courage of the head, which few men have
(Heart-courage is beast-common!) to dare look
Beyond this petty wave of time, and scan
Futurity's spreading deep; nor yet in sooth
His life, which, I confess, like mine, gives forth
Some odour of unsanctity:—but that
He is my friend, who loves his self for me;
Whom I can trust with all my thoughts as freely
As the two-headed God could let his flow
From one brain to its neighbour. For these matters
Touching the Church, wherefore should he oppose me,
Now, after long agreement? He has oft
Said Amen to our secular anathema,
Against encroachers on our civil rights.
No, I could ne'er select a fitter tool!
He ever to my will has been obsequious,
To my least wishes, even when his hatred.
He help'd me to the crown too!—Though he have
Small influence, as a losel, with his order,
So best; he 'll have less interest for them too!
With a rough besom I must sweep this Church,
For it is foul; albeit at the same time,
I scratch some reverend bare legs within it.
'Tis a bold move; and may e'en shake the kingdom
Till the throne totter; but it must be made!
No blenching, Harry! Deeds become great by danger:
Upon Destruction's hair-broad margin still
Success doth love to walk!—Let's to the work:
'Twill halve itself upon me and my choice,
So become light to the joint labourers.
He shall be Primate!
[Exit
| Thomas À Becket | |