The Works of Sir Henry Taylor

Silence! Enough. There is a time for shouting and bellowing, and there is a time for speaking with our tongues like men and Christians. He will be here anon; and know ye what ye shall say to him? Know ye what ye would have? Know ye your own minds?

A Burgher.

We know our own minds, Sir, indifferently; but you know them better.

2nd Burgher.

We would have a man to rule us, and not to rob us.

3rd Burgher.

Right, right!

4th Burgher.

Rob thee, truly! Rob a scarecrow! What should he get by robbing thee?

2nd Burgher.

What thou shalt get in a minute, this dirk betwixt his ribs.

Frans Ackerman.

Silence! He's here.

Enter Van Artevelde and Van den Bosch.
Artevelde.
Well met, good Sirs: what brings you here? If aught
Wherein I can befriend you, speak your minds,
Or let one speak, and should he speak aright
Hold up your hands, that so I may receive
His words as yours.

Several Voices.
Frans Ackerman shall speak.

Frans Ackerman.
Sir, they are pleased to make a mouth of me;
And it behoves me first to bid you know
What manner of men they are. Sir, to say truth,
These men are honest; yea, and wise as honest;
And more, they're men of substance, pay their debts,
Live peaceably with all men, in good will
Like brothers. But this town is full of strife;
All men are not like these, who find it hard,
Though turning t'other cheek as is their wont,

To walk as they would wish. Now they are told,
And some of them remember, in time past,
When that your glorious father ruled the town,
The streets were like a church: no quarrels, brawls,
Nor no man dared so much as lay his hand
Upon his weapon. As the father is,
So is the son. They say that would you deign
To rule supreme in Ghent, the strife within
Would cease, and all our roisterers be thrown
Upon the foe without. If this their suit
You should be pleased to grant, most proud were they
To serve a chief so gracious and so good.

Artevelde.
If this be your desire, hold up your hands.
[They hold up their hands.
So—if my sight deceive me not, all hands
Are held aloft. To all, then, this reply:
I thank you for the trust and good respect
In which you hold me; Sirs, I thank you all.
You say that for the love my father bore
To you, and you to him, you'd fain have me
What he was once—your Captain. Verily,
I think ye do not well remember, Sirs,
The end of all the love 'twixt you and him.
He was the noblest and the wisest man
That ever ruled in Ghent; yet, Sirs, ye slew him;
By his own door, here where I stand, ye slew him.
What then am I to look for from your loves?
If the like trust ye should repose in me,

And then in like wise cancel it,—my friends,
That were an ill reward.

Several Burgesses.
Nay, Master Philip!

Artevelde.
Oh, Sirs, ye look not to such end, I know;
Nor may it be yourselves that bring it round:
But he who rules must needs be grudged of some,
And safeguard from the many should he find
So long as he shall serve the many well.
Sirs, to that end his power must be maintain'd;
The power of peace and war, of life and death,
He must have absolute. How say ye, Sirs?
Will ye 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!”
Artevelde.
So be it.
Now listen to your Captain's first command.
It has been heretofore the use of some
On each cross accident, within, without,
To cry aloud for peace. This may not be;
It much unsettles brave men's minds, disturbs
The counsels of the wise, and daunts the weak.
Wherefore my pleasure is, and I decree,
That whoso shall but talk of terms of peace
From this time forth, save in my private ear,
Be deem'd a traitor to the town of Ghent
And me its Captain; and a traitor's death
Shall that man die.

Burgesses.
He shall, he shall, he shall!
We'll kill the slave outright.

Artevelde.
At my command,
Not otherwise; for mark me further thus:
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.
[A pause.
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?
Then better were it we had back again
Roger d'Auterne, the bailiff. No, my friends,
It is the liberty to choose our chief
And bow to none beside. Now ye choose me,
And in that choice let each man rest assured
That none but I shall dare to judge him: yes,
Whoso spills blood without my warranty,
High man or low, rich man or poor, shall die.

Burgesses.
The man shall die; he shall deserve to die!
We'll kill him on the spot, and that is law.

Artevelde.
Hold, hold, my friends! ye are too hasty here,
You shall not kill him; 'tis the headsman's part,
Who first must have my warrant for his death.

Burgesses.
Kill him who likes, the man shall die; that's law.

Artevelde.
What further knowledge of my rules ye need
Ye peradventure may obtain, my friends,
More aptly from my practice than my speech.
Now to the Stadt-house—bring the litter—There
The deans of crafts shall do me homage.

Van den Bosch.
Ho!
Bring ye the litter. Stand apart, good Sirs!
And now, let's hear your voices as ye go.

University of Virginia Library

Scene II.