ROGER OF YORK.
Why dost thou presume,
Arm'd with thy cross, to come before the King?
If Canterbury bring his cross to court,
Let York bear his to mate with Canterbury.

FOLIOT (_seizing hold of_ BECKET'S _cross_).
Nay, nay, my lord, thou must not brave the King.
Nay, let me have it. I will have it!

BECKET.
Away!

[_Flinging him off_.

FOLIOT.
_He_ fasts, they say, this mitred Hercules!
_He_ fast! is that an arm of fast? My lord,
Hadst thou not sign'd, I had gone along with thee;
But thou the shepherd hast betray'd the sheep,
And thou art perjured, and thou wilt not seal.
As Chancellor thou wast against the Church,
Now as Archbishop goest against the King;
For, like a fool, thou knowst no middle way.
Ay, ay! but art thou stronger than the King?

BECKET.
Strong--not in mine own self, but Heaven; true
To either function, holding it; and thou
Fast, scourge thyself, and mortify thy flesh,