PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE. PART THE FIRST. ACT I. SCENE I.-A Street in the Suburbs of Ghent. The LORD OF Occo, meeting SIR SIMON BETTE and SIR OCCO. Sir Guisebert Grutt, and, by my faith, I think SIR SIMON. Sir, in good time. We'd have a word with you before we go. You are a noble born, my Lord of Occo; And let me tell you, many marvel much To find a gentleman of so great worth A flatterer of the Commons. SIR GUISEBERT. Yea, my lord: It looks not well when nobles fall away One from another. That the small-crafts here Should lift their hands against their natural lord Is but the plague and sorrow of the time, OCCO. Oh, dear sirs, I could remind you how your sometime selves SIR GUISEBERT. Truly, why not? To whoso merits it 'twill freely fall; So give us leave to make a good report Of how you stand affected. Twere your wisdom. OCCO. Kind sirs, I thank you; you shall say, so please you, Cry out for war, and having not a hope It would not then behove me to stand out 'Tis fairly spoken, sir. SIR SIMON. When we come back, Bringing conditions with us as we trust, We'll look for aid from you amongst the Commons. For truly there are here a sort of crafts We'll look for your support. OCCO. Well, God speed you, sirs. To fair conditions you shall find me friendly. [Exeunt SIR SIMON BETTE and SIR GUISEBERT GRUTT. VAN AESWYN comes forward. AESWYN. My lord, were those that parted from you here OCCO. Ay! Would they had passed the windmills-how they crawl! And met no babbling burghers on their way. AESWYN. What! you have made an overture? OCCO. Not so: I've flung my line, and yonder pair of hooks AESWYN. 'Tis said she is but backwardly inclined To any of her swains. OCCO. Such wealth as hers Makes a maid whimsical and hard to please. Send Berckel to her, And bid him say I wait upon her leisure. SCENE II.-The House Van Merestyn. ADRIANA VAN MERESTYN, and CLARA VAN ARTEVELDE. CLARA. I do not bid thee take him or refuse him ; ADRIANA. But once to think, When the heart knows itself, is once too much. CLARA. Well; answer what you will; no, yes-yes, no; To have a lover. ADRIANA. Yours? why there's Sir Walter. CLARA. Sir Walter? very good; but he's at Bruges. I want one here. ADRIANA. On days of truce he comes. I want one every day. CLARA. Besides, the war Will never slacken now; a truce to truces. And though on moonless, cloud-encompass'd nights, Hazard a trip, yet should he be discover'd, ADRIANA. In truth, To mould denial to a pleasing shape CLARA. A colourable thing or two; as thus: I should say? My lord, we women swim not with our hearts, |