My tenants or my household.

BECKET.
Look to your king.


HENRY.
No man without my leave shall cross the seas
To set the Pope against me--I pray your pardon.

BECKET.
Well--will you move?

HENRY.
There. [_Moves_.

BECKET.
Check--you move so wildly.

HENRY.
There then! [_Moves_.

BECKET.
Why--there then, for you see my bishop
Hath brought your king to a standstill. You are beaten.

HENRY (_kicks over the board_).
Why, there then--down go bishop and king together.
I loathe being beaten; had I fixt my fancy
Upon the game I should have beaten thee,