SCENE III. Before the Stadt-House, as in the last Scene of the Second Act.-The people assemble.

PETER VAN NUITRE in front.

ACKERMAN.

FRANS ACKERMAN and

'Tis certain something hath befallen him.

VAN NUITRE.

But where? He might be found, if so it were.

ACKERMAN.

Hast sought him at Jozyne's estaminet?

VAN NUITRE.

There, and at every lodgment in the city.
Old mother Van Den Bosch was confident
He went forth early to Van Artevelde's.

ACKERMAN.

Sure nothing can have happen'd to him there.

That's what I doubt.

VAN NUITRE.

The best will have their failings.

They were not in such unison of mind
As might have been desired.

ACKERMAN.

I cannot think it.

Soft! now he comes.

But this day's business shall no farther go

Until the truth appear.

[VAN ARTEVELDE enters. There is a dead silence. He walks, slowly and with a mournful appearance, up the steps of the platform.

Are we all here?

ARTEVELDE.

ONE FROM THE CROWD.

Our bones.

What's left of us is here,

ARTEVELDE.

We're wasted in the flesh, 'tis true;

But we have spirits left. We all are here.

ACKERMAN.

I will say nay to that. Where's Van Den Bosch ?

ARTEVELDE.

Silence! Frans Ackerman; we want not him.

ACKERMAN.

Then I demand if he be dead or living.

He lives.

ARTEVELDE.

ACKERMAN.

Where is he, then?

ARTEVELDE.

Where all shall be

Who seek, by mutiny against their chief,

To do unlawful deeds. What ask ye more?

He is arrested and confined.

ACKERMAN.

What cause

For this proceeding hath that brave man given ?

ARTEVELDE.

If, as his friend, thou ask wherein he erred,
I'll tell it to this people and to thee,—
Not, mark you me, as rendering account,
For that were needless, but of free good-will.
Sirs, Van Den Bosch insisted, in despite
Of all dissuasion, all authority,

The messenger from Bruges should be waylaid

And put to death-yea, nothing less would serve,-
That so the tidings which I'm here to tell
Might never reach your ears. To place restraint
Upon this obstinate humour, and give scope
To your deliberations, for awhile

He is in duress.

Are ye well content?

MANY VOICES.

Content, content. The tidings, what are they?

ARTEVELDE.

Frans Ackerman, thou hear'st what cause constrained Me, much reluctant, thus to use thy friend.

Art thou content?

ACKERMAN.

I am.

ARTEVELDE.

So far is well.

And we set forth unanimous, to end

I trust no otherwise. Fair sirs of Ghent!
Van Aeswyn, the ambassador from Bruges,
Comes with credentials from the earl, to show
What mind he bears toward you. Bitterer words
Did never Christian man to Christians send.
But we are fallen, my friends, and vain it were
For us to quarrel with the proud man's scorn.
Then to the matter take ye heed alone,
And trouble not your hearts for aught beside.
He will admit you to no terms but these,—
That every man and woman born in Ghent
Shall meet him on the road, half way to Bruges,
Bare-footed, and bare-headed, in their shirts,

With halters on their necks, and there kneel down,

And place their lives and chattels at his mercy.
This if ye do not now, he's sworn an oath
That he will never hearken to you more,
But famine shall consume you utterly,

And in your desolate town he'll light a flame
That shall not be extinguished. Speak your minds.
Will ye accept the proffer'd terms, or no?

BURGHERS.

Give us your counsel. Tell us what is best.

What can I say?

You cannot live.

ARTEVELDE.

You know that as you are
Death opens every door,

And sits in every chamber by himself.

If what might feed a sparrow should suffice
For soldiers' meals, ye have not wherewithal

To linger out three days. For corn, there's none;

A mouse imprison'd in your granaries

Were starved to death. And what then should I say?

Why truly this that whatsoe'er men's plight
There is a better and a worser way,

If their discretion be not overthrown

By force of their calamities. Three things
Ye have to choose of. You may take his terms,
And go with halters round your necks to Loo.
You will be then his servants and his wealth,
The labourers of his vineyard; and I deem,
Although a haughty lord he be and cruel,
That he will have the sense to spare his own,
When vengeance hath been fed. I say I deem
That when the blood of those that led
you on
And of their foremost followers hath flowed,

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