SCENE VIII.

A RISING GROUND, ENTRENCHED

AND STRONGLY

GUARDED, IN THE REAR OF THE FRENCH HOST.

The KING attended by the LORDS of Coucy and PoicTIERS, the BASTard of St. Poule, &c. MESSENGERS arriving and departing.

THE KING.

Here comes another-well sir-tell me e-what?

MESSENGER.

Sire, when Van Artevelde had crossed the bridge—

THE LORD OF COUCY.

What crossed the bridge alive?

THE KING.

Well, well; what then?

MESSENGER.

He poured himself upon the Breton flank,
Which stumbled back a step, but rallied soon,
Spurred by the lords of Saimpi and St. Just,

Who hastened to the spot; and there it is

That now the battle rages.

THE KING.

Ho! my horse!

My lords, do you your pleasures; it is mine
To get upon my horse and take what's going.

THE LORD OF POICTIERS.

Where I was on the right; but coming hither
The knight of Saimpi did I jump withal

Borne wounded to the rear, and learnt from him

That Artevelde was living, proof whereof

He bore upon his body, for his wounds

Were got in fighting with him hand to hand.

THE KING.

My horse! I'll fight him hand to hand myself!

Stay you, my lords, or go; I mount my horse.

THE LORD OF COUCY.

Have with your grace! I cannot blame

you much,

A PART OF THE FIELD ON THE WESTERN SIDE OF

THE LIS.

VAN ARTEVELDE attended by several OFFICERS and

PAGES.

ARTEVELDE.

Who's here? Fly, Sibrand, to the further left ;

Bid Eversdyk and Alphen wheel their force

Thou to the rear De Roo, and bid Van Ryk

Keep open passage on the bridge. Thou, Paul

Enter a Second MESSENGer.

SECOND MESSENGER.

Roosdyk, my lord, is dying of his wounds.

ARTEVELDE.

I cannot help it. Keep the causeway clear,
And summon Reehorst to my aid. We shake.
The cry is, still, Van Artevelde is slain.
Go make it known I live. Up with my cry!

[Exeunt.

SCENE X.

ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD STILL ON THE

WESTERN SIDE OF THE LIS.

THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY, SIR FLEUREANT OF HEURLEE and Followers.

DUKE OF BURGUNDY.

Another charge like that—ill-sorted knaves!

They stumbled on each other, each by each

Pegged in and pinioned. Now they're loose enough.

Another charge-they scurry to Mount Dorre.
We'll drive them up the hill, and from the top
Like a staved cask shall they be trundled down.

What wait we for?

SIR FLEUREANT.

Truly the cask rings hollow;

Yea, sir, the wine is spilt that made them bold.

Lo! yonder goes the king.

DUKE OF BURGUNDY.

What! breaking bounds!

He must not be before us. Scale the hill.

[Exeunt.

SCENE XI.

ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD, ON THE SAME SIDE

OF THE LIS, NEAR THE BRIDGE.

VAN ARTEVELDE and VAN RYK.

ARTEVELDE.

I bleed, Van Ryk. Can any thing be done?
For if there can, my spirit's sight is dimmed,
And I discern it not.