Canst thou be cruel? To be esteem'd of them,
Thou must not set more store by lives of men
Than lives of larks in season.
I can do what is needful. Where, I pray you,
Abide the messengers of peace from Bruges?
They lodg'd last night i' the Clothiers' Square. God's blood!
They thought their houses not so safe, belike.
They enter'd by that quarter ;
And near Sir Simon's, which they reach'd the first,
I had provided some pick'd men to meet them;
But, spite my cautions, they brake forth too soon,
And that with howls that Bruges itself might hear.
So the knights took the warning?
And gallop'd to the Square, the while their train
Stood fast and fought; and it is worthy note
That one amongst them shouted in the fray
The D'Arlons' war-cry, whence he may be known
Of that lord's following, and wherefore here
We well may guess.
Had he been slain 'twere well :
Had others been 'twere not. If I rule Ghent,
No man shall charge me that his life or goods
Are less secure than mine, so he but keep
The laws that I have made. Believe me, Peter,
Thy scheme of rule is too disorderly.
Thy force still spends and not augments itself.
To make the needy and the desperate thine,
Thou gav'st them up the plunder of the rich;
Now these, grown desperate and needy too,
Raise up a host against thee;-whereupon,
No spoil remaining, thy good friends depart.
God's curse go with them!
They've carried it about these five long years;
They took it with them to the peasant's hut,
They took it with them to the burgher's stall,
A roving curse it followed at their heels,
And like enough it will abide amongst them.
[Shouts of Artevelde!' are heard from without. Out, out! and show thyself.
SCENE II.-The Street in front of Van Artevelde's House.
VAN ARTEVELDE and VAN DEN BOSCH. The Multitude below.
My friends, I thank you for the good respect
In which you hold me; sirs, I thank you all.
You say that for the love you bore my father,
You and your predecessors, you'd have me
What he was once,-your captain. Verily
I think you do not well remember, sirs,
The end of all the love ye bore my father.
He was the noblest and the wisest man
That ever ruled in Ghent; yet sirs, ye slew him;
By his own door, here where I stand, ye slew him ;
What then am I to look for from your loves?
If the like trust ye should repose in me,
And then in like wise cancel it,—my friends,
That were an ill reward.
SEVERAL BURGESSES.
Nay, Master Philip!
Oh sirs! I know ye look not to such end,
Nor may it be yourselves that bring it round;
But he who rules must still displeasure some,
And he should have protection from the many
So long as he shall serve the many well.
Sirs, to that end his power must be maintain'd;
The
power of peace and war, of life and death,
He must have absolute. How say ye, sirs?
Will ye bestow this power on me? if so,
Shout Artevelde,' and ye may add to that,
'Captain of Ghent,'-if not, go straightway home.
[All shout' Artevelde, Captain of Ghent !'
Now listen to your Captain's first command.
It has been heretofore the use of some
On each cross accident, here or without,
Το
cry aloud for peace. This is most hurtful.
It much unsettles brave men's minds, disturbs
The counsels of the wise, and daunts the weak.
Wherefore my pleasure is and I decree
That whoso shall but talk of terms of peace
From this time forth, save in my private ear,
Be deem'd a traitor to the town of Ghent
And me its Captain; and a traitor's death
Shall that man die.
He shall, he shall, he shall.
We'll kill the slave outright.
If any citizen shall slay another
Without my warranty by word or sign,
Although that slayer be as true as steel,
This other treacherous as Iscariot's self,
The punishment is death.
Ye speak no word. What do we fight for, friends? for liberty? What is that liberty for which we fight?
Is it the liberty to slay each other?
Then better were it we had back again
Roger d'Auterne, the bailiff. No, my friends,
It is the liberty to choose our chief
And bow to none beside. Now ye choose me,
And in that choice let each man be assured
That none but I alone shall dare to judge him.
Whoso spills blood without my warranty,
High man or low, rich man or poor, shall die.
The man shall die; he shall deserve to die;
We'll kill him on the spot, and that is law.
Hold, hold, my friends! ye are too hasty here.
You shall not kill him; 'tis the headsman's part,
Who first must have my warrant for his death.
Kill him who likes, the man shall die; that's law.
What further knowledge of my rules ye need
Ye peradventure may obtain, my friends,
More aptly from my practice than my speech.
Now to the Stadt-House-bring the litter, fellows-
And there the deans of crafts shall do me homage.
Ho! stand apart. Bring in the litter, varlets.
Now sirs, let's hear your voices as you go.
[Exeunt, with shouts of Artevelde!'
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