Henry monologue (Act 1) — Becket and other plays

Out upon thee, man! Saving the Devil's honour, his yes and no. Knights, bishops, earls, this London spawn--by Mahound, I had sooner have been born a Mussulman-- Less clashing with their priests-- I am half-way down the slope--will no man stay me? I dash myself to pieces--I stay myself-- Puff--it is gone. You, Master Becket, you That owe to me your power over me-- Nay, nay-- Brother of France, you have taken, cherish'd him Who thief-like fled from his own church by night, No man pursuing. I would have had him back. Take heed he do not turn and rend you too: For whatsoever may displease him--that Is clean against God's honour--a shift, a trick Whereby to challenge, face me out of all My regal rights. Yet, yet--that none may dream I go against God's honour--ay, or himself In any reason, choose A hundred of the wisest heads from England, A hundred, too, from Normandy and Anjou: Let these decide on what was customary In olden days, and all the Church of France Decide on their decision, I am content More, what the mightiest and the holiest Of all his predecessors may have done Ev'n to the least and meanest of my own, Let him do the same to me--I am content.