And deeming this some tustle with your wives Five hundred marks-begone, and bring the money. MYK. Begone we will. Let's to our homes, my friends. Not gold, sir, no, nor silver, be thou sure, [Exeunt MYK and the Burghers; manent VAN DEN BOSCH, VAN DEN BOSCH. Ye see, sirs, how the knaves take heart and rail OCCO. I saw both that and more; Our White-Hoods look'd like very renegades, VAN DEN BOSCH. My lord of Occo, thou hast judged aright. Le Clerc lies leaning up against a hedge By reason of my rudeness, and the fruit Which that same gallows-tree of mine hath borne ; And to say truth, although my wit be good, It hath a fitter range without the gates, OCCO. Hast thou bethought thee of a man that's wise, VAN DEN BOSCH. Why, there be such; Though one that's wise would scarce be wise to take it. What think'st thou, Frans? And thou, my lord of Occo? Know ye a man that, being wise, were willing? ACKERMAN. There is no game so desperate which wise men Or love of fame, or merely love of play. These men are wise, and then reputed wise, Such men must still be tempted with high stakes. OCCO. Tempt them and take them; true, there be such men ; Philip Van Artevelde is such a man. VAN DEN BOSCH. That is well thought of. Let us try him then. He saw me through the lattice, and stayed his horse an instant under the window. Was that all? CLARA. ADRIANA. Yes-no-yes-I suppose so. CLARA. Oh that maids would learn to speak the truth, or else to lie becomingly! ADRIANA. Do I not lie becomingly ?—Well, 'tis from want of What should I say? use. CLARA. What say? Had my sworn friend so question'd me, I with a brave and careless hardihood Had graced the disavowal of my love. ADRIANA. But did I say I loved him not? Oh, God! Not words, not tears-Heaven only knows how much; I pray to be forgiven for the sin Of loving aught on earth with such a love. CLARA. Well, God forgive you! for you answer now ADRIANA. Alas! I know not. CLARA. Nay, but you can guess. ADRIANA. Oh! I have guess'd a thousand times too oft. CLARA. And all the while is he, I nothing doubt, ADRIANA. He love-sick! No-it may be that he loves me; And when he told me he must come to-night, That then was in his thoughts. CLARA. Oh! much the doubt! But this was what I knew had come to pass, ADRIANA. But honestly, think you it must be love He comes to speak of? CLARA. Why, 'tis either that, Or else to tell you of what fish he caught. ADRIANA. Oh, do not tease me; for my heart is faint CLARA. Nay, if your love's so lamentable sick, Nurse it yourself; I'll go. |