forgiveness? I yield it freely, being the true wife Of this dead King, who never bore revenge. Enter COUNT WILLIAM and WILLIAM William. Who be these women? Ay, and what art thou? Edith. His wife! Aldwyth. I was the Queen of Wales. William. Death! and enough of The day of St. Calixtus, and the day, And this dead Ling's Who, king or not, hath kinglike fought and fallen, His birthday, too. It seems but yestereven I held it with him in his English halls, His day, with all his rooftree ringing 'Harold,' Before he fell into the snare of Guy; When all men counted Harold would be king, And Harold was most happy. Take them away! Stand where their standard fell ... where these two lie. Take them away, I do not love to see them. Pluck the dead woman off the dead man, Malet! Malet. Faster than ivy. Must I hack her arms off? How shall I part them? William. Leave them. Let them be! Bury him and his paramour together. He that was false in oath to me, it seems Was false to his own wife. We will not give him A Christian burial: yet he was a warrior, And wise, yea truthful, till that blighted VOW Which God avenged to-day. Wrap them together in a purple cloak And lay them both upon the waste seashore At Hastings, there to guard the land for which He did forswear himself - a warrior-ay, And but that Holy Peter fought for us, And that the false Northumbrian held aloof, And save for that chance arrow which the Saints Sharpen'd and sent against him-who can tell? Three horses had I slain beneath me: twice BECKET. TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR, THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EARL OF SELBORNE. MY DEAR SELBORNE- To you, the honoured Chancellor of our own day, I dedicate this dramatic memorial of your great predecessor; — which, altho' not intended in its present form to meet the exigencies of our modern theatre, has nevertheless-for so you have assured me won your approba tion. Ever yours, TENNYSON. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. HENRY II. (son of the Earl of Anjou). THOMAS BECKET, Chancellor of England, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. ROGER, Archbishop of York. Bishop of Hereford. HILARY, Bishop of Chichester. JOCELYN, Bishop of Salisbury. JOHN OF SALISBURY HERBERT OF BOSHAM friends of Becket. WALTER MAP, reputed author of 'Golias,' Latin poems against the priesthood. GEOFFREY, son of Rosamund and Henry. GRIM, a monk of Cambridge. SIR RICHARD DE BRITO SIR WILLIAM DE TRACY the four knights of the King's household, enemies of Becket. DE BROC OF SALTWOOD CASTLE. LORD LEICESTER. PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA. Two KNIGHT TEMPLARS. JOHN OF OXFORD (called the Swearer). ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE, Queen of England (divorced from Louis of France). Or Lais, or thy Rosamund, or another? Henry. My Rosamund is no Lais, Thomas Becket; And yet she plagues me too - no fault in her But that I fear the Queen would have her life. Becket. Put her away, put her away, my liege! Put her away into a nunnery! Safe enough there from her to whom thou art bound By Holy Church. And wherefore should she seek The life of Rosamund de Clifford more Than that of other paramours of thine? Henry. How dost thou know I am not wedded to her? I would to God thou wert, for I should find An easy father confessor in thee. Becket. St. Denis, that thou shouldst not. I should beat Thy kingship as my bishop hath beaten it. Henry. Hell take thy bishop then, A doter on white pheasant-flesh at feasts, Will not thy body rebel, man, if thou flatter it? Becket. That palate is insane which cannot tell A good dish from a bad, new wine from old. Henry. Well, who loves wine loves And pass her to her secret bower in England. She is ignorant of all but that I love her. Becket. My liege, I pray thee let me hence a widow And orphan child, whom one of thy wild barons Henry. Ay, ay, but swear to see to her in England. Becket. Well, well, I swear, but not to please myself. Henry. Whatever come between us? Becket. What should come Between us, Henry? Henry. Nay-I know not, Thomas Becket. What need then? Wellwhatever come between us. [Going Henry. A moment! thou didst help me to my throne In Theobald's time, and after by thy |