There's no man lives within the walls of Ghent And suffer none to plunder or molest him. Haste, Van den Bosch! by Heav'n they run like lizards! Take they not heart the sooner, by St. Paul They'll fly the city, and that cripples us. Thou'st play'd the game right boldly, and for me, Artevelde. Well, Will go from street to street through all the town, I'll meet thee here again. Form, White-Hoods, form: [The White-Hoods, by whose shouts of 'Artevelde for Ghent' ACT III. SCENE I.-Night. A Wood near Bruges. The LORD OF Occo and Followers. Occo. No more than half a league to Bruges? then halt, And let the men of arms be drawn together Where the ground's open. Berckel, ride thou on [TO VAN AESWYN, who enters. Where is the lady? Aeswyn. They've dropp'd behind some furlong with the litter. Occo. Keep thou beside her, lest she should prevail To make the varlets speak. Let none approach After we pass the gates but men of mine, Nor ever let the litter be unclosed. Now, if we're all in order, march we on. SCENE II.-A Banquetting Hall in the Stadt-house at Bruges. -Tables are spread, and the EARL OF FLANDERS, the HASE of Flanders, with several Lords, Knights, and followers of the EARL, are entertained by the Mayor of Bruges and the Åldermen. Earl. Sir Mayor, we thank you; 'tis a royal feast. Mayor. My gracious lord, the supper is but poor; Very exceeding poor the supper is; And yet the most we can; your humble hosts, Can but purvey your highness what they have, A very sorry supper. Alderman. True indeed. Yet if your highness please to cast it up, A thousand florins Mayor. Hold thy peace, Van Holst; In good time. The minstrels twang their cat-gut. If aught could make me cast my supper up, "Twere to taste further of their courtesies. Soho, sir minstrel! what hast got to sing! Van Holst. That matter has been cared for, please your highness; We knew your highness had a skilful ear, And 'twas not every poesy would please you. Trump'd up as 'twere extempore for the nonce; THE MINSTREL SINGS. The little bird sat on the greenwood tree, ་ The little bird sang, 'Sir Lion, arise, For I hear with my ears and I see with my eyes, From his lair the Lion of Flanders rose, And he shook his mane and toss'd up his nose; 'Ere a leaf be fallen or summer be spent,' Quoth he, if God spare me, I'll go to Ghent.' 'For a little bird sang and I dream❜d beside And was fast asleep, and they trod on my tail.' Ere a leaf was fallen the lion he went, The little bird sat on the bush so bare, Sir Lion, awake, and put out your claws, The lion stirr'd and awoke with a snort, 'For a little bird sang, and I dream'd as well, Ere a snow-flake fell the lion he went, The gates they shook though they were fast barr'd, At the first roar ten thousand men Fell sick to death-he roar'd again, And the blood of twenty thousand flow'd On the bridge of Roone, as broad as the road. Woe worth thee, Ghent! if, having heard Earl. A singular good song, and daintily accompanied with the music. Give him three florins, and a denier for the lad withal. Van Holst. Your highness is too bountiful. He made it not himself. 'Twas your highness's serjeant-minstrel that made it. The making and mending of it together was seven days and nights, bating twelve hours for sleeping, and four hours for eating, and five minutes for saying his prayers. Drinking never stopped him, for still the more he drank, the more he made of it. And he ranted and sang, an' it like your highness, that it would have pleased you to hear him; for being that the song was made in honour of your highness, he said he could sing it a thousand times over and think better of it every time. Earl. It is good poesy-marry and good prophecy too. Hark ye, master mayor; I have some whit repented me that I was wrought upon by those old Knights of Ghent to proffer terms of such easy acquit tance. Mayor. When your highness is graciously pleased to give away your advantages, it is not for such as I to say you do wrong; but every man in Bruges that is well affected to your highness, said that three hundred heads was too little. Earl. By my faith they said true; and Gilbert Matthew told me no less; but I was persuaded by the old Knights; I was too easy with them. Where is Gilbert Matthew? Gilbert. Here, my lord. Earl. Come hither, Gilbert. I have bethought me, Gilbert, I almost sinn'd against true chivalry To let yon rabble off. Gilbert. Your highness says it. Earl. Thou'dst tell me 'twas not by thy counsel,— well. Gilbert. As many heads of each insurgent craft Would not have been denied. A hundred nail'd Like weasels to the gates of each wall'd town Thorough the States of Flanders-that had been A warning wholesome and significant To the good towns. Earl. A salutary caution. I would the bargain were to make again. Why, so now! who comes here? the good Sir Walter. |