And I can tell you, lords, ye are all as like
To lodge a fear in Thomas Becket's heart
As find a hare's form in a lion's cave.

JOHN OF OXFORD.
Ay, sheathe your swords, ye will displease the King.

DE BROC.
Why down then thou! but an he come to Saltwood,
By God's death, thou shalt stick him like a calf!
[_Sheathing his sword_.

HILARY.
O my good lord, I do entreat thee--sign.
Save the King's honour here before his barons.
He hath sworn that thou shouldst sign, and now but shuns
The semblance of defeat; I have heard him say
He means no more; so if thou sign, my lord,
That were but as the shadow of an assent.

BECKET.
'Twould seem too like the substance, if I sign'd.

PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA.
My lord, thine ear! I have the ear of the Pope.
As thou hast honour for the Pope our master,
Have pity on him, sorely prest upon
By the fierce Emperor and his Antipope.
Thou knowest he was forced to fly to France;
He pray'd me to pray thee to pacify