_The_ BISHOPS _come round him_.

HEREFORD.
The King will not abide thee with thy cross.
Permit me, my good lord, to bear it for thee,
Being thy chaplain.

BECKET.
No: it must protect me.

HERBERT.
As once he bore the standard of the Angles,
So now he bears the standard of the angels.

FOLIOT.
I am the Dean of the province: let me bear it.
Make not thy King a traitorous murderer.

BECKET.
Did not your barons draw their swords against me?

_Enter_ ROGER OF YORK, _with his cross,
advancing to_ BECKET.

BECKET.

Wherefore dost thou presume to bear thy cross,
Against the solemn ordinance from Rome,
Out of thy province?