BECKET. O ay, with all that loyalty and good faith Thou still hast shown thy primate, Gilbert Foliot. [BECKET _draws apart with_ HERBERT. Herbert, Herbert, have I betray'd the Church? I'll have the paper back--blot out my name. HERBERT. Too late, my lord: you see they are signing there. BECKET. False to myself--it is the will of God To break me, prove me nothing of myself! This Almoner hath tasted Henry's gold. The cardinals have finger'd Henry's gold. And Rome is venal ev'n to rottenness. I see it, I see it. I am no soldier, as he said--at least No leader. Herbert, till I hear from the Pope I will suspend myself from all my functions. If fast and prayer, the lacerating scourge-- FOLIOT (_from the table_). My lord Archbishop, thou hast yet to seal. BECKET. First, Foliot, let me see what I have sign'd. [_Goes to the table_. What, this! and this!--what! new and old together! Seal? If a seraph shouted from the sun, And bad me seal against the rights of the Church, I would anathematise him. I will not seal. [_Exit with_ HERBERT. _Enter_ KING HENRY. HENRY. Where's Thomas? hath he sign'd? show me the papers! Sign'd and not seal'd! How's that? JOHN OF OXFORD. He would not seal. And when he sign'd, his face was stormy-red-- Shame, wrath, I know not what. He sat down there And dropt it in his hands, and then a paleness, Like the wan twilight after sunset, crept Up even to the tonsure, and he groan'd, 'False to myself! It is the will of God!'