For truly, good brother, thou pleasest us not,
Singing hey down, ho down, down, derry down!
Then up they both started from Robin to run,
But down on their knees Robin pulled them each one,
All on the fallen leaves so brown.-

The grey friars prayed with a doleful face,

But bold Robin played with a right merry grace,
Singing hey down, ho down, down, derry down!
And when they had prayed, their portmanteau he
took,

And from it a hundred good angels he shook,
All on the fallen leaves so brown.

"The saints," said bold Robin, “have hearkened our

prayer,

And here's a good angel apiece for your share—
If more you would have, you must win ere you wear
Singing hey down, ho down, down, derry down!"
Then he blew his good horn with a musical cheer,
And fifty green bowmen came trooping full near,
And away the grey friars they bounded like deer,
All on the fallen leaves so brown."

DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE KING AND BECKET

Time, 1164, just before the Council of Clarendon and Becket's flight to France.

HENRY. Archbishop! listen now to my firm will; In which for all the love and favour kind That knit your heart to mine in days gone by, I wot that you will not oppose your king.

BECKET. I never can forget, my Lord, what you Have been and done to me. Our hearts and minds Were one; you made me rich and gave me power; Ask of me aught that I may give, even life, And it is freely yours.

HENRY.

I ask not life!

Your clergy claim a freedom from the law.
From all sides tidings come of horrid crimes

Done by vile clerks; justice unsheaths her sword And claims her due-in steps the Church and says, Nay! Nay! the man is mine; I'll see to it."

This must no longer be, 'tis quite opposed

To all the ancient customs of this realm.
A power within a power cannot exist.
Soon, here at Clarendon, our States will meet;
And I shall there present the Articles
Of just and equal law, all old in use.
From you I ask, demand, assent and aid.

BECKET. My Liege! You know that I wished not this post

To which you forced me up. I said you'd hate me

soon

As much as then you loved. The sacred rights
Of our most holy Church I cannot yield!
It would be sacrilege. Even my king

I cannot aid against my order's rights.
HENRY. Thomas!

what you do.

beware!

You know not

I love the Church with filial love; through it
The blessed gift of our salvation comes.
Demand of mine is not against her rights.

You were an upright law-respecting man;
How can you guard the miscreant, ruffian crew,
Who under this new power claimed by your courts
Are sheltered from th' avenging outraged sword
Of justice stern? 'Tis shame upon our realm.
Nowhere will law be rev'renced and obeyed,

While in our midst your clerks can laugh with scorn
At its most holy rules.

BECKET.

My Lord, 'tis true

That evil men have ranked themselves with us. 'Tis but th' abuse of a most precious rightWhat gift that God has given is not abused!

E

You, noble Sire, use well the kingly power,
You rule with justice and desire but right,
But, Sire, kings there have been before your reign
Who used their office 'gainst all that was good;
Then, in our courts the pious and the learned
Their refuge found from ruthless tyrant's sway.
When you're at rest in Heaven's blesséd sleep,
What guardian will remain against misrule?

HENRY. The law ! which I shall leave so just and strong,

That neither prince nor priest will dare it break.
There's more to say! You prelates of the Church
Claim new, unheard of, strange immunities :
Before, you gladly ranked with our great lords;
But now, you separate yourselves from them,
And, “Privilege" your cry, refuse to bear
The burdens of the state. This too, must cease.
The great Archbishops who preceded you
Submission meet have made to weaker kings.
Do you the same by me; the Church will have
No better son, nor you a truer friend.
My Lord, it cannot be.

BECKET.

HENRY.

Then list, O Priest. you down ; I made you rich, and I will leave you poor, I'll forfeit all the goods of all your kin,

I raised you up, and I will cast

And drive them with you and your helpers all
From forth the realm.

BECKET.

Proud king, I serve a power

Greater than thou. You o'er the body hold

A mighty rule, it o'er the soul doth reign;
You raised me up, but it called you from France
And made you sovereign here. Your threat I cast
You back; and say Beware, lest that same Church
That made you mighty king undo its work,

66

And leave you ruined now, hopeless hereafter.'
HENRY. No more, ungrateful man!

forthwith

Meet me

At Clarendon; and there before your peers
Repeat this threat if thou hast hardihood.
If you submission make, I'll all forgive ;
If not, then dread the worst for you and yours.

THE MURDER OF BECKET, A.D. 1170

BY PATRICK SCOTT.

[Enter à Becket, John of Salisbury, Grim, Monks, etc. in confusion.]

BECKET. Gently! What means this tumult?
Deem
ye this

The palace of a Prince? We are his servants
Whose mind, as seen in Nature and her works,
Is ever solemn, as it's ever sure!

[Increasing noise of battering heard. A' Becket ascends the steps of the altar.]

GRIM. Oh! is there yet hope, John of Salisbury? What will persuade him?

JOHN.

None, my friend; and nothing!

Scarce would I do it, an' I could. Behold

How like a god the glorious victim stands !
The bright yet calm intelligence within

Shines through the thin skin on the outward face.
Look on that high divinity of brow,

Up which the thought that sways a world hath

climbed

As to its topmost temple! Meeting there,

In wavy angle, two full feeling veins,

Distended to their limits, give alone
Their mortal indication-only one,
One sarcifice like that!

BECKET.

Ho! quickly there,

Unclose the gates. What! think ye Heaven hath

need

Of bars and bolts, when will'd, to fortify

Its sentence of exclusion?

[Looking round and speaking low.
But one instant-

And what an instant! O thou glorious throne
Of the incarnate Majesty of Love,

For thee, and the mysterious sanctities
Of which thou art the image and the shrine,
A little while I've borne with life-for these
I now would lay it down! for unto me,

Childless and motherless, thou hast been all things—
Thou, and thy worship, and thy faith! Farewell!
May worthier-Nay, 'tis time! Come back, my

eyes!

'Tis the last look that I shall give to thee, My beautiful temple !

(Aloud).

Now, what fear ye, friends? Is your profession one which suns itself

In the full blaze of unresisted day,

But shrinks and shivers when the comfortless clouds Assault the horizon? Do ye preach the Church Ruling the world, and with false hearts crouch down Unto God's vilest creatures, men who use

The forceful means which Nature gave to brutes ? On with the service!

[William de Tracy, and the three other knights, in complete armour, burst in.]

TRACY. Where's the traitor Becket?

[None speak.

What! are ye silent, cowards? Monks! I say, Where's the Archbishop Becket?

BECKET (descending).

Here am I !

TRIAL BY JURY INSTITUTED, 1166

THE law which I shall leave so just and strong,
That neither prince nor priest will dare it break.