Becket. Methought I answer'd mod

erately enough.

John of Salisbury. As one that blows the coal to cool the fire.

My lord, I marvel why you never lean
On any man's advising but your own.
Becket. Is it so, Dan John? well,
what should I have done?

John of Salisbury. You should have taken counsel with your friends Before these bandits brake into your presence.

They seek-you make-occasion for your death.

Becket. My counsel is already taken,
John.

I am prepared to die.

John of Salisbury. We are sinners all, The best of all not all-prepared to die. Becket. God's will be done! John of Salisbury.

Ay, well.

God's will be done!

thunder now and then of an approaching storm. MONKS heard chanting the service. ROSAMUND kneeling.

Rosamund. ous Benedict, These arm'd men in the city, these fierce faces

O blessed saint, O glori

Thy holy follower founded CanterburySave that dear head which now is Canterbury,

Save him, he saved my life, he saved my child,

Save him, his blood would darken

Henry's name;

Save him till all as saintly as thyself
He miss the searching flame of purgatory,
And pass at once perfect to Paradise.

[Noise of steps and voices in the cloisters. Hark! Is it they? Coming! He is not here

Not yet, thank heaven. O save him! [Goes up steps leading to chor. Becket (entering, forced along by John of Salisbury and Grim). No, I tell you!

I cannot bear a hand upon my person, Why do you force me thus against my

will?

Grim. My lord, we force you from your enemies.

Becket. As you would force a king from being crown'd.

John of Salisbury. We must not force the crown of martyrdom. [Service stops. Monks come down from the stairs that lead to the choir. Monks. Here is the great Archbishop! He lives! he lives!

Die with him, and be glorified together. Becket. Together? . . . get you back! go on with the office.

Monks. Come, then, with us to

Oh, my lord Archbishop, A score of knights all arm'd with swords and axes

To the choir, to the choir!

[Monks divide, part flying by the stairs on the right, part by those on the left. The rush of these last bears Becket along with them some way up the steps, where he is left standing alone.

Becket. Shall I too pass to the choir, And die upon the Patriarchal throne Of all my predecessors?

John of Salisbury. Twenty steps down. darkness,

No, to the crypt!

Stumble not in the

Lest they should seize thee.

Grim.

To the crypt? no-no, To the chapel of St. Blaise beneath the

roof!

John of Salisbury (pointing upward and downward). That way, or this! Save thyself either way.