To grant the combat which I claim with Occo,

I then have leave to fold my banner up,

And quit your camp.

EARL.

Come, Walter, come, you're foolish;

When cause and opportunity are rife
For reasonable fighting, we might well
Dispense with all knight-errantry. Go to;
See the moon out, and if thy humour hold
It shall have way; the next that shines, I trust,
Shall cast upon the battered walls of Ghent

A thorough light.

D'ARLON.

And if I live to see it

I'll claim the combat. Fare you well, my lord.

EARL.

Was ever man, with denizens for foes

And foreigners for friends, so plagued as I !
My bravest knight would cast away his life
To do me a disservice, with more zeal

Than he was used to serve me with denied,

[Exit.

Straight he shall tell me he was born elsewhere

And owes me no allegiance.

1 GILBERT MATTHEW.

By your leave,

I could not wish your highness better fortune,
Than that the fools you count amongst your friends
Were numbered with your foes,—or with the dead.

Enter ATTENDANT.

ATTENDANT.

According to the summons, please your highness,

The lords are met in council.

EARL.

I shall come.

Attend me, Gilbert, when the board breaks up

And thou shalt know the issue. Come to dinner.

And sirrah, tell the butler that to day

I shall drink brandy. From all use of wine

I'm interdicted by a sacred vow,

Till Ghent's submission free me. May't be soon!

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

GHENT.

The platform at the top of the steeple of St. Nicholas'

church. Time, day-break.

ARTEVELDE (alone).

There lies a sleeping city. God of dreams!

What an unreal and fantastic world

Is going on below!

Within the sweep of yon encircling wall,

How many a large creation of the night,
Wide wilderness and mountain, rock and sea,
Peopled with busy transitory groups,

Finds room to rise, and never feels the crowd!
-If when the shows had left the dreamers' eyes
They should float upward visibly to mine,
How thick with apparitions were that void!
But now the blank and blind profundity

Turns my brain giddy with a sick aversion

-I have not slept. I am to blame for that.
Long vigils, joined with scant and meagre food,
Must needs impair that promptitude of mind,
And cheerfulness of spirit, which, in him
Who leads a multitude, is past all price.

I think I could redeem an hour's repose
Out of the night that I have squandered, yet.
The breezes, launch'd upon their early voyage,
Play with a pleasing freshness on my face.
I will enfold my cloak about my limbs

And lie where I shall front them ;-here I think.

If this were over

(He lies down.)

-blessed be the calm

That comes to me at last! A friend in need

Is nature to us, that when all is spent,

Brings slumber-bountifully

We give her sleepy welcome

whereupon if all this

Were honourably over- -Adriana

(Falls asleep, but starts up almost instantly.)

I heard a hoof, a horse's hoof I'll swear,

Upon the road from Bruges, or did I dream?

No! 'tis the gallop of a horse at speed.

Or is it that thou hast not been to bed?

What are thy tidings?

ARTEVELDE.

VAN DEN BOSCH.

Nay, what can they be?

A page from pestilence and famine's day-book;

So many to the pest-house carried in,
So many to the dead-house carried out.

The same dull, dismal, damnable old story.

ARTEVELDE.

Be quiet; listen to the westerly wind,

And tell me if it bring thee nothing new.

VAN DEN BOSCH.

Nought to my ear, save howl of hungry dog That hears the house is stirring-nothing else.