DE TRACY.
Ay,
This lord of Canterbury----

DE BRITO.
As is his wont
Too much of late whene'er your royal rights
Are mooted in our councils----

FITZURSE.
--made an uproar.

HENRY.
And Becket had my bosom on all this;
If ever man by bonds of gratefulness--
I raised him from the puddle of the gutter,
I made him porcelain from the clay of the city--
Thought that I knew him, err'd thro' love of him,
Hoped, were he chosen archbishop, Church and Crown,
Two sisters gliding in an equal dance,
Two rivers gently flowing side by side--
But no!
The bird that moults sings the same song again,
The snake that sloughs comes out a snake again.
Snake--ay, but he that lookt a fangless one,
Issues a venomous adder.
For he, when having dofft the Chancellor's robe--
Flung the Great Seal of England in my face--
Claim'd some of our crown lands for Canterbury--