King Henry II: Will no-one rid me of this meddlesome priest?
Thomas a Becket: It is here now, the supreme folly, this is its hour.
King Louis VII of France: The King of England and his Ambassadors can drown themselves in what they are impertinent enough to call their English channel.
Thomas a Becket: Tonight you can do me the honor of christening my forks.
King Henry II: Forks?
Thomas a Becket: Yes, from Florence. New little invention. It's for pronging meat and carrying it to the mouth. It saves you dirtying your fingers.
King Henry II: But then you dirty the fork.
Thomas a Becket: Yes, but it's washable.
King Henry II: So are your fingers. I don't see the point.
Thomas a Becket: Nobility lies in the man, my prince, not in the towel.
King Henry II: Here's my royal foot up your royal buttocks.
King Henry II: He's read books, you know, it's amazing. He's drunk and wenched his way through London but he's thinking all the time.
King Henry II: So what in most people is morality, in you it's just an exercise in... what's the word?
Thomas a Becket: Aesthetics.
King Henry II: Yes, that's the word. Always "aesthetics."
King Henry II: Your body, madam, was a desert that duty forced me to wander in alone. But you have never been a wife to me.
Thomas a Becket: Oh Lord, how heavy thy honor is to bear.
King Henry II: I'm suddenly very intelligent. It probably comes from making love to that French girl last night.
Brother Philip: Your grace, there are armed men at the doors. I bolted the doors, but.
Thomas a Becket: It's time for vespers. Does one bolt the doors during vespers? I've never heard of it.
Brother Philip: But, your grace.
Thomas a Becket: Open them. Everything must be as it should be for divine service.