Becket and other plays
FlTZURSE. Ay, but he speaks to a noble as tho' he were a churl, and to a churl as if he were a noble.
ELEANOR. Pride of the plebeian!
FlTZURSE. And this plebeian like to be Archbishop!
ELEANOR. True, and I have an inherited loathing of these black sheep of the Papacy. Archbishop? I can see further into a man than our hot-headed Henry, and if there ever come feud between Church and Crown, and I do not then charm this secret out of our loyal Thomas, I am not Eleanor.
FlTZURSE. Last night I followed a woman in the city here. Her face was veiled, but the back methought was Rosamund--his paramour, thy rival. I can feel for thee.
ELEANOR. Thou feel for me!--paramour--rival! King Louis had no paramours, and I loved him none the more. Henry had many, and I loved him none the less--now neither more nor less--not at all; the cup's empty. I would she were but his