My comrade, boon companion, my co-reveller,
The master of his master, the King's king.--
God's eyes! I had meant to make him all but king.
Chancellor-Archbishop, he might well have sway'd
All England under Henry, the young King,
When I was hence. What did the traitor say?
False to himself, but ten-fold false to me!
The will of God--why, then it is my will--
Is he coming?
MESSENGER (_entering_).
With a crowd of worshippers,
And holds his cross before him thro' the crowd,
As one that puts himself in sanctuary.

HENRY.
His cross!

ROGER OF YORK.
His cross! I'll front him, cross to cross.
[_Exit_ ROGER OF YORK.
HENRY.
His cross! it is the traitor that imputes
Treachery to his King!
It is not safe for me to look upon him.
Away--with me!

[_Goes in with his_ BARONS _to the Council Chamber,
the door of which is left open_.

_Enter_ BECKET, _holding his cross of silver before him_.