The manner of his death, and all he said.
[_Exeunt_ HERBERT _and_ BECKET.

ELEANOR.
Fitzurse, that chart with the red line--thou sawest it--her bower.

FITZURSE.
Rosamund's?

ELEANOR.
Ay--there lies the secret of her whereabouts, and the King gave it to
his Chancellor.

FlTZURSE.
To this son of a London merchant--how your Grace must hate him.

ELEANOR.
Hate him? as brave a Soldier as Henry and a goodlier man: but thou--
dost thou love this Chancellor, that thou hast sworn a voluntary
allegiance to him?

FlTZURSE.
Not for my love toward him, but because he had the love of the King.
How should a baron love a beggar on horseback, with the retinue of
three kings behind him, outroyalling royalty? Besides, he holp the
King to break down our castles, for the which I hate him.

ELEANOR.
For the which I honour him. Statesman not Churchman he. A great and
sound policy that: I could embrace him for it: you could not see the