about her, and this Becket, her father's friend, like
enough staved us from her.

ELEANOR.
Us!

FITZURSE.
Yea, by the Blessed Virgin! There were more than
I buzzing round the blossom--De Tracy--even that
flint De Brito.

ELEANOR.
Carry her off among you; run in upon her and
devour her, one and all of you; make her as hateful
to herself and to the King, as she is to me.

FITZURSE.
I and all would be glad to wreak our spite on the
rose-faced minion of the King, and bring her to the
level of the dust, so that the King--

ELEANOR.
Let her eat it like the serpent, and be driven out
of her paradise.




ACT ONE.