Of words or vows, pledges or protestations.
Let not such trust be hastily dissolved.

ADRIANA.

I trusted not. I hoped that I was loved, Hoped and despair'd, doubted and hoped again, Till this day, when I first breathed freelier,

Daring to trust and now— -Oh God, my heart! It was not made to bear this agony

Tell me you love me, or you love me not.

ARTEVELDE.

I love thee, dearest, with as large a love
As e'er was compass'd in the breast of man.
Hide then those tears, beloved, where thou wilt,
And find a resting-place for that so wild
And troubled heart of thine; sustain it here,
And be its flood of passion wept away.

ADRIANA.

What was it that you said then? If
Why have you thus tormented me?

ARTEVELDE.

Be calm;

And let me warn thee, ere thy choice be fixed,
What fate thou mayst be wedded to with me.
Thou hast beheld me living heretofore
As one retired in staid tranquillity:
The dweller in the mountains, on whose ear
The accustom'd cataract thunders unobserved;
The seaman who sleeps sound upon the deck
Nor hears the loud lamenting of the blast
Nor heeds the weltering of the plangent wave,-
These have not lived more undisturb'd than I:

SCENE X.]

PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE.

But build not upon this; the swollen stream
May shake the cottage of the mountaineer
And drive him forth; the seaman roused at length
Leaps from his slumber on the wave-wash'd deck;
And now the time comes fast when here in Ghent
He who would live exempt from injuries

Of armed men, must be himself in arms.
This time is near for all,-nearer for me:
I will not wait upon necessity

And leave myself no choice of vantage ground,
But rather meet the times where best I may,
And mould and fashion them as best I can.
Reflect then that I soon may be embark'd
In all the hazards of these troublesome times,
And in your own free choice take or resign me.

ADRIANA.

Oh Artevelde, my choice is free no more.
Be mine, all mine, let good or ill betide.
In war or peace, in sickness or in health,

In trouble and in danger and in distress,

Through time and through eternity I'll love thee ;
In youth and age, in life and death I'll love thee,
Here and hereafter, with all my soul and strength.
So God accept me as I never cease

From loving and adoring thee next Him;
And oh, may He pardon me if so betray'd
By mortal frailty as to love thee more.

ARTEVELDE.

I fear, my Adriana, 'tis a rash

And passionate resolve that thou hast made:
But how should I admonish thee, myself

51

So great a winner by thy desperate play.

Heaven is o'er all, and unto Heaven I leave it.

That which hath made me weak shall make me strong,

Weak to resist, strong to requite thy love;

And if some tax thou payest for that love,
Thou shalt receive it from Love's exchequer.
Farewell; I'm waited for ere this.

ADRIANA.

Farewell.

But take my signet-ring and give me thine,
That I may know when I have slept and waked
This was no false enchantment of a dream.

ARTEVELDE.

My signet-ring, I have it not to-day :
But in its stead wear this around thy neck.
And now, my Adriana, my betrothed,

Give Love a good night's rest within thy heart
And bid him wake to-morrow calm and strong.

SCENE XI.-BRUGES.-An Apartment in the Palace of the
Earl of Flanders.

The EARL and SIR WALTER D'ARLON.

D'ARLON.

I marvel, my good lord, you take that knave
So freely to your counsels.

EARL.

Treason done

Against my enemies secures him mine.

His countrymen of Ghent can ne'er forgive him;

Which knowing, he will therefore cleave to me. Besides, he learns the minds of men toward me Here and in Ghent, how each man stands affected. For this and other serviceable arts,

Not out of friendship, do I show him favour.

Have

you not seen a jackdaw take his stand
On a sheep's back, permitted there to perch
Less out of kindness to so foul a bird
Than for commodious uses of his beak?
As to the sheep the jackdaw, so to me

Is Gilbert Matthew; from my fleece he picks
The vermin that molest me. Here he comes!

Enter GILBERT MATTHEW.

Well, honest Gilbert, are the knights not gone?

GILBERT.

Not yet, my lord; they urge in lieu of lives
The forfeiture of sundry burgages

To fill your coffers. I denied them roundly.

I bid thee not!

EARL.

GILBERT.

Lives, lives, my lord, take freely; But spare the lands and burgages and moneys. The father dead, shall sleep and be forgotten; The patrimony gone,-that makes a wound That's slow to heal; heirs are above-ground ever.

Well, be it so.

EARL.

GILBERT.

The knights wait here without.

They ask an audience of leave, and bring

A new adherent.

EARL.

Give them entrance, Gilbert.

GILBERT MATTHEW goes out, and returns with SIR SIMON BETTE and SIR GUISEBERT GRUTT.

SIR SIMON.

This audience we made bold to crave, my lord,
To advertise your highness that our friend
Of whom we spake, the valiant Lord of Occo,
Has come here at great hazard in disguise
To show how matters now proceed in Ghent.

EARL.

He shall be welcome. Does he wait?

SIR SIMON.

He does;

And with your highness' leave I'll bring him to you.

EARL.

Think'st thou he may be steadied?

[Exit.

GILBERT.

At this time

He has great power to do your highness service;

And your free pardon for all past misdeeds,
And promise of preferment, will do much.
To make him wholly yours.

EARL.

Well, well, so be it.

'Tis no such urgent need we have of him;

But if he be so contrite, it is well.