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bestow this power on me? if so, Shout · Artevelde,' and ye may add to that, Captain of Ghent,'—if not, go straightway home.
[All shout · Artevelde, Captain of Ghent!'
So be it.
cry aloud for peace. This is most hurtful.
He shall, he shall, he shall. We'll kill the slave outright.
No: mark me further. If any citizen shall slay another Without my warranty by word or sign, Although that slayer be as true as steel, This other treacherous as Iscariot's self, The punishment is death.
Ye speak no word. What do we fight for, friends ? for liberty? What is that liberty for which we fight?
Is it the liberty to slay each other?
The man shall die; he shall deserve to die;
Hold, hold, my friends! ye are too hasty here.
Kill him who likes, the man shall die ; that's law.
What further knowledge of my rules ye need
VAN DEN BOSCH.
Ho! stand apart. Bring in the litter, varlets.
[Exeunt, with shouts of • Artevelde!' SCENE III.—The House Van Merestyn.
SIR WALTER D’ARLON and CLARA VAN ARTEVELDE. She is
engaged in binding up his arm, which is wounded.
False knight, thou com'st to see thy ladye love
God's mercy ! lady!
citizens : But I will do the penance not the less.
Come, come ! confess thyself; make a clean breast.
this arm-alas! there was a time When knights were true and constant to their loves And had but one a-piece—an honest time; Knights were knights then; God mend the age, say I ! True as the steel
their backs were they And their one lady's word was gospel law. Would I had lived a hundred years ago !
And then live on a hundred years to come,
What, what ! no truer knight? A seemly word forsooth! Hast many more such ? No truer knight ?—'Tis thus you great lords live With flatterers round you all your golden youth, And know yourselves as much as I know PuckYour heads so many bee-hives; honey'd words Swarm in your ears, and other from your mouth Go buzzing out to ply for sweets abroad ; And so your summer wastes, till some cold night The cunning husbandman comes stealthily And there is fire and brimstone for
lords ! Hold
this arm-let go my hand, I sayAm I to tie thy bandage with my teeth ?
My lord-good heaven! Your arm- I fear you're hurt.
Hold, hush! I'll answer for thee. Merely a scratch ;
And lo! as we were slaying some fourteen
My lord, you know her; she is ever thus,
She sighs and says, too true.
No verily. But why, my lord, come here
Yes, tell us why.
ARTEVELDE (as he enters). Let my guard wait without.
His guard! What's this?
My Lord of Arlon, God be with your lordship!