ADRIANA. With all my You're too light-headed for my company. CLARA. heart. Is it with all your heart? then I'll not go; And many a flower is hanging down its head your horns. SCENE V.-The House Van Artevelde. PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE and FATHER JOHN of HEDA. ARTEVELDE. I never look'd that he should live so long. Who wins the race of glory, but than him Have fallen upon the course; a thousand others Whilst lighter barks push'd past them; to whom add Who, gifted with predominating powers, Bear yet a temperate will and keep the peace. FATHER JOHN. Had Launoy lived he might have pass'd for great, ARTEVELDE. They will be dim and then be bright again. And many a cloud drifts by and none sojourns. And lightly is death mourn'd: a dusk star blinks Twinkles the re-illuminated star, And all is out of sight that smirch'd the ray. FATHER JOHN. The worse for us! He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that. "Tis an ill cure For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them. ARTEVELDE. Else had I little learn'd From my much learn'd preceptor. Enter the Page. What, Sir Page! Hast thou been idling in the market-place? Canst tell whose chattels have been sold to-day PAGE. Sir, I cannot; 'Tis at the house Van Merestyn I've been To see the Lady Adriana. ARTEVELDE. Her! Well, and what said the damsel ? PAGE. Sir, not much; For Mistress Clara was her visiter, And she said everything; she said it all. ARTEVELDE. What was it that ye spake of? PAGE. When I came The talk was all of chivalry and love. ARTEVELDE. And what was talk'd of then? PAGE. Oh! still the same. The ladies praised him mightily for deeds ARTEVELDE. Now, Father, mark you that; hearts soft as wax These damsels would be thought to bear about, Yet ever is the bloodiest knight the best! It is most true. FATHER JOHN. Full many a dame I've known Who'd faint and sicken at the sight of blood, And shriek and wring her hands and rend her hair To see her lord brought wounded to the door; And many a one I've known to pine with dread Of such mishap or worse,―lie down in fear, The night-mare sole sad partner of her bed, Rise up in horror to recount bad dreams And seek to witches to interpret them,— This oft I've known, but never knew I one Who'd be content her lord should live at home In love and christian charity and peace. ARTEVELDE. And wherefore so? Because the women's heaven Is vanity, and that is over all. What's firiest still finds favour in their eyes; What's noisiest keeps the entrance of their ears. FATHER JOHN. Deem you not There may be one who so transcends her sex ARTEVELDE. It may be I have deem'd or dream'd of such. Enter an Attendant. ATTENDANT. Sir, here is Master Van den Bosch below |