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165

Scene III.

—The Palace.
The Lord of Occo and Gilbert Matthew.
Gilbert.
His Highness will be here anon. Sir Guy,
Freely accept the combat for the morrow.
Count on my speed. There's not a man in Bruges
Who has outlived the day I wish'd him dead.
The threads of many destinies I hold
Unknown to them they bind for life or death,
And I am punctual as the planet stars.
A winter's night, as long as nights are now,
Is worth an age.

Occo.
One doubt detains me still.
The Earl, if ever it were known, would—

Gilbert.
Hark!
'Tis over, that. He loves him now no more.
For every philtre that can make men love
I know the secret of an antidote.
I've warn'd him of those private ties in Ghent.
Enough. I've dosed him.

Occo.
Well, it shall be done.

Gilbert.
I will provide the hands.

Occo.
You shall not need.
I have already sent for two tried men,—
Italians; they are practised hands and fit.

Gilbert.
I have you then; 'tis Erclo and Romero.

Occo.
The same.


166

Enter the Earl.
Earl.
What shouting's this I hear abroad?

Occo.
The revellers, my good Lord; they pitch the bar,
And shoot with cross-bows for a prize. My Lord,
At noon to-morrow, if his heart but hold,
I'll meet Sir Walter D'Arlon.

Gilbert.
In good truth
But are these shouts of revel? Hark, again!
They cry “To arms!”

Earl.
By Heaven! I think 'tis that!
And hear ye not the bells? They're ringing backwards.

Occo.
'Tis an alarm.

Enter the Lord of Arlon, Sir Robert Mareschault, and others.
Earl.
Well, D'Arlon, what is this?

D'Arlon.
The men of Ghent, my Lord, the men of Ghent.

Earl.
What, here?

D'Arlon.
Two miles aloof they make a stand.

Earl.
What, are they mad?

D'Arlon.
I think not mad, my Lord,
But desperate.

Earl.
My friends, 'tis all as one.
Now shall this war be gloriously closed,
And famine, that was tedious, be o'erta'en.
Bring out my banner, summon all to arms,

167

Then forth and fight them.

Gilbert.
Please you, Sir, to say
How many they may number.

Sir Robert.
At a guess,
About five thousand.

Gilbert.
May they move or stand?

Sir Robert.
Since they were first descried they have not stirr'd.

Earl.
Forth with my banner; out with horse and foot.
Sir Knights, we muster in the Market-place.
Bring me my armour, ho!

Gilbert.
My Lord, one word,
Ere yet the Knights depart. These men are few,
But they are desperate; famine-bitten are they,
But alway are the leanest wolves most brave
To break the fold. Sir, let us not be rash;
Our men at-arms are somewhat flush'd with drink
And may be ill to guide. Sir, think upon it.
Fight them to-morrow. Let them sleep to-night
In winter's lap, beneath the ragged tent
Of a December's sky. When morning breaks
You'll see them lying upon yon hill-side
As dead and sapless as the last month's leaves.
Give them this night.

The Hase of Flanders.
They'll think we stay through fear.

Gilbert.
Think they their will; whate'er they think of that

168

They shall unthink to-morrow.

Earl.
By my faith,
I know not, Gilbert, but thou mayst be right.
The winter's night is sure to thin their ranks
Of fighting men; and if they're scantly stored
With victual, which is probable to think,
They shall endure it worse.

Enter the Mayor in haste.
Mayor.
My Lord, my Lord,
The crafts fly forth by thousands from the gates
Unorder'd and unled.

Earl.
Who kept the gates?
How came they open? Walter, haste thee, haste!
And bring the madmen back.
[Exit D'Arlon.
How came they so?

Mayor.
A simple mariner avouch'd, my Lord,
That he had heard your Highness's own mouth
Give out the order.

Earl.
Hang the slave! 'twas false.

Mayor.
So thought the warders; nor had they complied
But that the people, being much inflamed,
Menaced their lives.

Enter a Squire.
Squire.
Sir Walter, Sir, sends word
The town is almost emptied. He entreats

169

Your Highness will not look to bring them back,
Which is past hope, but sound at once to arms
And send them leaders.

Earl.
Gilbert, we must forth.

Gilbert.
Ay, go we forth, and fear not for the end.
Fifty to five, we surely must do well,
Though peradventure for the sparing lives
We might have done more wisely.

Earl.
Sirs, be sudden;
And when you're mounted in the Market-place,
I'll give you there your charges. Sound to horse.