He will be satiate and stay his hand.
If this to try be your deliberate choice,
I will not say that ye be ill-advised.

How are ye minded? Let your Deacons speak.
[The people speak in consultation with each other and with the
Deacons.

DEACON OF THE MARINERS.

We of the mariners' craft approve the counsel.

DEACON OF THE CORDWAINERS.

There's nothing better can be done.

DEACON OF THE FULLERS.

Agreed.

Our craft was never forward in the war.

DEACON OF THE WEAVERS.

But, Master Philip, said you not three ways There were to choose of? Tell us what remains.

You may

ARTEVELDE.

have patience and expect the close.

If nothing else seem fit, betake yourselves

Unto your churches; at the altar's foot

Kneel down and pray, and make a Christian end, And God will then have mercy on your souls. This is the second way.

DEACON OF THE WEAVERS.

And what the third ?

ARTEVELDE.

If there be found amongst you men whose blood
Runs not so chilly yet as thus to die,

Then there's this third way open-but not else.
That they whose plight is best and hearts are stout
Be mustered suddenly, equipped and armed;

L

That with our little left of food and wine
The sumpter beasts be laden for their use;
That then they follow me: to-morrow's eve
Should find us knocking at the gates of Bruges,
And then we'd strike a stroke for life or death.
This is the third and sole remaining course.
Choose of the three.

MANY VOICES.

Choose for us, Master Philip:

You are more wise than we.

ARTEVELDE.

If by my choice

Ye will abide a soldier's death for me!

A GREAT MANY VOICES.

To Bruges, to Bruges; a venture forth to Bruges.

ARTEVELDE.

Why yet, then, in our embers there is life!
Let whosoe'er would follow me, repair

To the West Port. Five thousand will I choose
From them that come, if there should be so many:
And when night falls, we'll sally from the gates.

MANY CITIZENS AGAIN.

For Bruges! for Bruges! 'tis gallantly resolved.

ARTEVELDE.

Then fare ye well, ye citizens of Ghent !
This is the last time you will see me here,
Unless God prosper me past human hope.
I thank you for the dutiful demeanour
Which never-no not once-in any
of you
Have I found wanting, though severely tried
When discipline might seem without reward.

Fortune has not been kind to me, good friends;
But let not that deprive me of your loves,
Or of your good report. Be this the word;
My rule was brief, calamitous-but just.
No glory which a prosperous fortune gilds,
If shorn of this addition, could suffice
To lift my heart so high as it is now.
This is that joy in which my soul is strong,
That there is not a man amongst you all
Who can reproach me that I used my power
To do him an injustice. If there be,
It is not to my knowledge; yet I pray him,
That he will now forgive me, taking note
That I had not to deal with easy times.

FIRST CITIZEN.

Oh, Master Philip, there is none-not one.

SECOND CITIZEN.

Most justly and most wisely you have ruled us.

ARTEVELDE.

I thank you, sirs; farewell to you, once more.
Once more, farewell. If I return to Ghent,
A glory and dominion will be your's

Such as no city since the olden time
Hath been so bold to conquer or to claim.

-God's will be done!

If I return no more-
To Him and to His providence I leave you.

[He descends. The people come round him, seizing his hands, and
crying confusedly, "God bless you, Master Philip! God
be with you!"

Nay, press not on me, friends; I see ye weep,
Which ye did never for your past mischances.
But ye shall be disburthen'd of your griefs
The rather than dishearten'd by these tears;
Or else should I reprove them-so-farewell!

SCENE IV.-The Vestibule of the Church of St. Nicholas.-At the extreme end of it, VAN RYK is seen keeping guard over the door which gives access to the church tower.—In front, CLARA appears, followed at a little distance by VAN AESWYN.

CLARA.

Still he pursues me; but I will not bear it.
How now, Sir Squire ? whom seek you?

AESWYN.

With your leave,

I have an errand for your private ear.

CLARA.

My private ear! I have no private ear!
My ears will not be private.

AESWYN.

To pardon my presumption.

I beseech you

CLARA.

Well, what then?

It is not past forgiveness; no, no, no,

I freely pardon you.

AESWYN.

I thank you, madam ;

And were I but permitted to speak out

All that he bade me say—

CLARA.

That he what he?

AESWYN.

The Lord of Arlon, madam.

CLARA.

Lord of what?

AESWYN.

Sir Walter, Lord of Arlon.

CLARA.

Oh! Sir Walter,

Sir Walter D'Arlon-a good knight, they say:
He sent his service, did he?-a good knight.-
I knew him once-he came to Ghent-oh God!
I'm sick-the air is hot, I think-yes hot!
I pray you pardon me-we get no rest
In this beleaguer'd town-no anything—
This is the time of day I use to faint;
But I shall miss to do it for this once;
So please you to proceed.

AESWYN.

There's here a bench;

If you'll be seated: for you look so pale . . . .

CLARA.

No, I can stand-I think-well then, I'll sit.
So now, your errand?

AESWYN.

The Lord of Arlon, madam,

Imparted to me that of all the griefs

That Fortune had dealt out to him, was none
So broke his spirit as the cruel thought
That you in some sort must partake the woes
Of this so suffering city: he could ne'er

Lay lance in rest or do a feat of arms
But this reflection stung him to the heart,

And each success in which he might have triumph'd
Was turn'd to bitterness,-seeming nought else
But injury to his love. Thus is he now
A man whose heart resents his handiwork,
And all his pleasure in the war is poison'd.