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PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE.

PART THE SECOND.

"Oh Lord, what is thys worldys blysse,
That changeth as the mone!

My somer's day in lusty May

Is derked before the none."

THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD.

"I say, ye Commoners, why were ye so stark mad,
What frantyk frensy fyll in youre brayne;
Where was youre wit and reason ye shuld have had?
What willfull foly made yow to ryse agayne

Yowre naturall lord?"

SKELTON.

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The Burgomaster and divers Burgesses of Ypres, Officers,

Messengers, &c.

MEN OF FRANCE.

KING CHARLES THE SIXTH.

THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY, his Uncle, and Heir Presumptive to the Earl

of Flanders.

THE DUKE OF BOURBON, also Uncle to the King.

SIR FLEUREANT OF HEURLÉE, a Follower of the Duke of Bourbon.

SIR OLIVER OF CLISSON, Constable of France.

SIR JOHN DE VIEN, Admiral of France.

THE LORDS OF SAIMPI, SANXERE, and ST. JUST; SIR RAOUL OF RANEVAL; the LORD OF COUCY, and many other Lords and Knights belonging to the French King's Council.

TRISTRAM OF LESTOVET, Clerk of the Council.

WOMEN.

ELENA DELLA TORRE, an Italian Lady.

CECILE, her Attendant.

DAME VOORST, a Woman of Ypres.

The SCENE is laid sometimes in FLANDERS and sometimes

in FRANCE.

PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE.

PART THE SECOND.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-An Ante-room to the State Apartments of the Grand Justiciary in the Royal Palace at Senlis, in France.-Several groups of Suitors holding Petitions in their hands. In front a Yeoman of Tournesis, and near him SIR FLEUREANT OF HEURLÉE.

If I

may

SIR FLEUREANT.

be so bold, friend, whence art thou? The times are stirring, and come whence thou may'st Thou must bring news.

YEOMAN.

So please your worship's grace I come from this side Tournay; I am French, And though I say it, sir, an honest yeoman.

SIR FLEUREANT.

And, honest yeoman, what's thine errand here?

YEOMAN.

I have a suit, sir, to my noble lord

The Duke of Burgundy.

P

SIR FLEUREANT.

Why, what?-what suit?

YEOMAN.

"Tis but for justice, sir; I crave but justice.

SIR FLEUREANT.

Hast thou the price of justice in thy pocket?

Nay, sir, I am poor.

YEOMAN.

SIR FLEUREANT.

Poor, and want justice?-where was thy mother's thrift
To bring thee up in such a poor estate

And yet to lack such dainties! Say wherein
Would'st thou be justified? who is't hath wrong'd thee?

YEOMAN.

Last Wednesday, sir, a troop of Flemings, led
By fierce Frans Ackerman, the frontier pass'd
And burn'd my homestead, ravaged all my fields,
And did sore havoc in the realm of France.

SIR FLEUREANT.

What say'st thou? is it so? Ha, ha! my friend,
This is high matter.

Thou'lt be heard on this.

Enter Usher.

USHER.

Depart ye, sirs; his grace is with the king;
He bids you all depart and come to-morrow;
To-day his grace hath business with the king,
And will not be molested. Clear the chamber.
Their graces and the king are coming hither,
And would be private ;-prithee, sir, depart.

[To the Yeoman, who lingers.

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