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 Thy King; for if thou go against thy King, Then must he likewise go against thy King, And then thy King might join the Antipope, And that would shake the Papacy as it stands. Besides, thy King swore to our cardinals He meant no harm nor damage to the Church. Smoothe thou his pride--thy signing is but form; Nay, and should harm come of it, it is the Pope Will be to blame--not thou. Over and over He told me thou shouldst pacify the King, Lest there be battle between Heaven and Earth, And Earth should get the better--for the time. Cannot the Pope absolve thee if thou sign? BECKET. Have I the orders of the Holy Father? PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA. Orders, my lord--why, no; for what am I? The secret whisper of the Holy Father. Thou, that hast been a statesman, couldst thou always Blurt thy free mind to the air? BECKET. If Rome be feeble, then should I be firm. PHILIP. Take it not that way--balk not the Pope's will. When he hath shaken off the Emperor, He heads the Church against the King with thee. RICHARD DE HASTINGS (_kneeling_). Becket, I am the oldest of the Templars; I knew thy father; he would be mine age Had he lived now; think of me as thy father! Behold thy father kneeling to thee, Becket. Submit; I promise thee on my salvation That thou wilt hear no more o' the customs. BECKET. What! Hath Henry told thee? hast thou talk'd with him? _Another_ TEMPLAR (_kneeling_). Father, I am the youngest of the Templars, Look on me as I were thy bodily son, For, like a son, I lift my hands to thee. PHILIP. Wilt thou hold out for ever, Thomas Becket? Dost thou not hear? BECKET (_signs_). Why--there then--there--I sign, And swear to obey the customs. FOLIOT. Is it thy will, My lord Archbishop, that we too should sign? BECKET. O ay, by that canonical obedience Thou still hast owed thy father, Gilbert Foliot. FOLIOT. Loyally and with good faith, my lord Archbishop?