ARTEVELDE (warding it off). Van den Bosch, forbear. Up with your weapons, White-Hoods; no more blood. Let no more blood be spilt on pain of death. But Artevelde will look to him and his, And suffer none to plunder or molest him. Haste, Van den Bosch! by Heav'n they run like lizards! VAN DEN BOSCH. That is not to my mind; but what of that? ARTEVELDE. Well, Thou to thy errand then, and I myself Will go from street to street through all the town, To reassure the citizens; that done I'll meet thee here again. Form, White-Hoods, form: Now, set forth. [The White-Hoods, by whose shouts of 'Artevelde for Ghent' the latter part of the scene has been frequently interrupted, now join in a cry of triumph, and carry him off on their shoulders. ACT III. SCENE I.-Night. A Wood in the vicinity of Bruges. The LORD OF Occo and Followers. occo. No more than half a league to Bruges? then halt, [TO VAN AESWYN, who enters. Where is the lady? AESWYN. They've dropp'd behind some furlong with the litter. OCCO. Keep thou beside her, lest she should prevail After we pass the gates but men of mine, SCENE II-A Banquetting Hall in the Stadt-house at Bruges. -Tables are spread, and the EARL OF FLANDERS, the HASE OF FLANDERS, with several Lords, Knights, and followers of the EARL, are entertained by the Mayor of Bruges and the Aldermen. EARL. Sir Mayor, we thank you; 'tis a royal feast. MAYOR. My gracious lord, the supper is but poor; And yet the most we can; your humble hosts, Can but purvey your highness what they have, ALDERMAN. True indeed. Yet if your highness please to cast it up, A thousand florins MAYOR. Hold thy peace, Van Holst; The minstrels twang their cat-gut. EARL (aside to the HASE). In good time. If aught could make me cast my supper up, 'Twere to taste further of their courtesies. Soho, sir minstrel! what hast got to sing! VAN HOLST. That matter has been cared for, please your highness; Trump'd up as 'twere extempore for the nonce; THE MINSTREL SINGS. The little bird sat on the greenwood tree, And the sun was as bright as bright could be; The Lion of Flanders lay fast asleep. The little bird sang, 'Sir Lion arise, For I hear with my ears and I see with my eyes, From his lair the Lion of Flanders rose, 'For a little bird sang and I dream'd beside That the people of Ghent were puff'd up with pride; And was fast asleep, and they trod on my tail.' Ere a leaf was fallen the lion he went, The little bird sat on the bush so bare, The little bird pick'd a berry so red, 'Sir Lion awake, and put out your claws, The lion stirr'd and awoke with a snort, And swell'd with rage till his breath came short; 'For a little bird sang, and I dream'd as well, Ere a snow-flake fell the lion he went, And roar'd a roar at the gates of Ghent; The gates they shook though they were fast barr'd, At the first roar ten thousand men Fell sick to death-he roar'd again, And the blood of twenty thousand flow'd On the bridge of Roone, as broad as the road. Wo worth thee, Ghent! if, having heard The first and second, thou bidest the third! Flat stones and awry, grass, potsherd and shard, EARL. A singular good song, and daintily accompanied with Give him three florins, and a denier for the the music. lad withal. VAN HOLST. Your highness is too bountiful. He made it not himself. "Twas your highness's serjeant-minstrel that made it. The making and mending of it together was seven days and nights, bating twelve hours for sleeping, and four hours for eating, and five minutes for saying his prayers. Drinking never stopped him, for still the more he drank, the more he made of it. And he ranted and sang, an' it like your highness, that it would have pleased you to hear him; for being that the song was made in honour of your highness, he said he could sing it a thousand times over and think better of it every time. |