ARTEVElde.

Farewell!

Brave Van den Bosch! and God assoile thy soul !

Vauclaire, we must be stirring; to the dead
An after time will give the meed of mourning;
Our present days are due to them that live.
Let us to council with my officers,

And sit by me; for in my

host henceforth

Thou shalt be next me in authority.

VAUCLAIRE.

Deep are my debts to your good-will, my lord;

More than my life can pay.

ARTEVELDE.

Nay, say no more;

You owe me nothing; what I have to give
Is held in trust and parted with for service.
Value received is writ on my commissions,

Nor would I thank the man that should thank me
For aught as given him gratis. Let's to council;
I'll lie no longer here at Oudenarde

To hear of towns betraying me.

Our camp

We must break up to morrow and push on
Boldly to Courtray and the Lower Lis.

The towns to the North and West will falter else

And Frenchify their faith. It is God's mercy

That some seven thousand citizens of Bruges

Are in my host, whose heads will pledges be

For what might fail me there. From Damme and Sluys,
From Dendermonde, the Quatre-Metiers, Ghent,
From Ardenburgh and Grammont and Alost,

We'll bring the rear-guard up. The Lis, the Lis!
Let me but reach the Lis before King Charles!

VAUCLAIRE.

The Upper Lis were easily regained

Could we but keep the Lower.

ARTEVELDE.

Now to council.

Enter VAN RYK.

VAN RYK.

A countryman, my lord, arrived from Heule

Says that King Charles is on his march to Rosebecque.

ARTEVELDE.

To Rosebecque let him come! With God's good-speed

I shall be there before him. Sirs, to council.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

THE FRENCH CAMP AT WINKEL ST. ELOY.

Enter from opposite sides the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and TRISTRAM OF LESTOvet.

DUKE OF BURGUNDY.

Another town come in, I hear; that's ten.
Now they will own I knew my way to Flanders.
Ypres, and Dunkirk, Cassel, Thorout, Bergues,
Makes five walled towns, and Poperinguen six;
And then there's Werwick, Vailant, and Messines,
And now comes Rousselaere, which rounds the tale.
Anon, they'll say that I had reason, ha?

TRISTRAM OF LESTOVET.

They will, my lord. Success will couch the blind.
The wise by speculation know to trade,

And give their wits long credit and they thrive;
A scrambling wit must live from hand to mouth
On issues and events. Prosperity

Is warranty of wisdom with the world;

Failure is foolishness. Now all will prize

Your grace's judgment at its worth.

(A cry within Place ho!')

Enter the KING, with SIR OLIVER OF CLISSON, the LORDS OF SAIMPI AND SANXERE, and others, and lastly, somewhat apart from the rest, SIR FLEUREANT OF HEurlee.

THE KING.

Well uncle, here we are! Get supper ready.
How fast you rode! I galloped half a mile-
But then St. Poule, he blew-oh he's too fat!
Is not the bastard of St. Poule too fat?

THE LORD OF SAIMPI.

May't please your majesty he's grossly fat.

THE KING.

I galloped uncle, what is this? Lo me!
A span-new sword-by God, of Spanish steel,
And longer than mine own-uncle, by God,
A king's sword should be longer than a duke's;
I must have this; this is a royal sword.

DUKE OF BURGUNDY.

Cousin, you are not tall enough to wear it.

THE KING.

Not tall enough indeed! Is supper ready?

When shall we get to Rosebecque? Here's St. Poule.

Enter ST. POULE.

So, here you come, you broken-winded bastard, You're always left behind. How far to Rosebecque? Tell me, my lords, shall we be there to-morrow?

SIR OLIVER OF CLISSON.

Your majesty, with weather to your wish,

Might lodge at Rosebecque with your vanguard force To-morrow night.

THE KING.

And when shall come the rear?

SIR OLIVER OF CLISSON.

On Wednesday morning.

THE KING.

And on Thursday night

The bastard of St. Poule. Hurrah for Rosebecque !

Remember, uncle, when the armies meet,

I am to make the knights; four hundred of them,
The constable himself will tell you so.