 | The Works of Sir Henry Taylor |  |
Scene I.
—The field of Merle, in the environs of Bruges.Artevelde, Van den Bosch, Van Ryk, Van Muck, and others.
Artevelde.
Not a step farther; give the word to halt,
And bring the waggons up; we can't be better.
God grant that they come hither in their haste!
Here is the fighting-ground, and there the slough
In which they needs must perish should they yield.
We can't be better.
Van den Bosch.
Let it then be here.
I've probed the slough.
Artevelde.
That I did too; 'tis deep.
Van den Bosch.
He is a taller man than you or I
That finds the bottom with his head above.
Artevelde.
It is an hour to sunset.
Van Ryk.
Nay, 'tis more.
Artevelde.
A little more, Van Ryk. I would to God
The sun might not go down upon us here
Without a battle fought!
Van den Bosch.
If so it should
We pass a perilous night.
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A nipping night,
And wake a wasted few the morrow morn.
Van Muck.
We have a supper left.
Artevelde.
My Lady's page
If he got ne'er a better should be wroth
And burn in effigy my Lady's steward.
For us and for one supper 'twill suffice;
But he's a skilful man at splitting hairs
That can make two on't.
Van Ryk.
Ay, or leave behind
A breakfast in his dish.
Artevelde.
We break our fast
Elsewhere to-morrow. I pray God the Saint
Whose feast they celebrate to-night at Bruges
May steep them well in wine. If Ukenheim
Get undiscover'd in, we shall not miss
To profit by his skill.
Van den Bosch.
We'll hope the best;
But if there be a knave in power unhang'd,
And in his head a grain of sense undrown'd,
He'll be their caution not to—
Artevelde.
Van den Bosch,
Talk we of battle and survey the field,
For I will fight. Let stakes be driven in
Amongst the rushes at the nether end
Of this morass. Van Ryk, look thou to that.
And thou, Van Muck, unload the victual here;
Then tilt the waggons up behind the stakes
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That I may know the ground. And now, friends all,
Let's to our charges. Ere the red sun sink
Beyond yon city, Ghent is lost or saved!
| The Works of Sir Henry Taylor | |