University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—An Anteroom to the State Apartments of the Grand Justiciary in the Royal Palace at Senlis in France.—Several groups of Suitors holding Petitions in their hands. In front a Yeoman of Tournesis, and near him Sir Fleureant of Heurlée.
Sir Fleureant.
If I may be so bold, friend, whence art thou?
The times are stirring, and come whence thou may'st
Thou must bring news.

Yeoman.
So please your worship's grace
I come from this side Tournay; I am French,
And though I say it, Sir, an honest yeoman.

Sir Fleureant.
And, honest yeoman, what's thine errand here?

Yeoman.
I have a suit, Sir, to my noble Lord
The Duke of Burgundy?

Sir Fleureant.
Why, what?—what suit?

Yeoman.
'Tis but for justice, Sir; I crave but that.

Sir Fleureant.
Hast thou the price of justice in thy pocket?

Yeoman.
The price of justice? Nay, Sir, I am poor.

Sir Fleureant.
Poor and want justice!—where was thy mother's thrift
To bring thee up in such a poor estate
And yet to lack such dainties? Say wherein
Wouldst thou be justified? Who is't hath wrong'd thee?

Yeoman.
Last Wednesday, Sir, a troop of Flemings, led
By fierce Frans Ackerman, the frontier pass'd
And burn'd my homestead, ravaged all my fields,
And did sore havoc in the realm of France.

Sir Fleureant.
What say'st thou? is it so? Ha, ha! my friend,
This is high matter; thou'lt be heard on this.

Enter Usher.
Usher.
Depart ye, Sirs; his Grace is with the King;
He bids you all depart and come to-morrow;
To-day his Grace hath business with the King
And will not be molested; go at once;
Their Graces and the King are coming hither
And would be private;—prithee, Sir, depart.

[To the Yeoman, who lingers.
Sir Fleureant.
Take thou thy grievance to the outer hall,
But go no further hence. Soft, Master Usher;
My friend shall have an audience of the Duke.
Look he be carefully bestow'd without
Till he be call'd. He is an injured man;
An injured man, and welcome not the less.
The grief he hath is worth its weight in gold.
Bestow him carefully without.

Usher.
This way.

[Exit, with the Yeoman.
Enter the Dukes of Burgundy and Bourbon.
Burgundy.
Good morrow, Flurry. Not on us, good brother;
I grant you were we rashly to make war,
No Council summon'd, no Estates convened,
Then aught that should unhappily ensue
Might chance be charged on us, as natural guides,
And so reputed, of the youthful King.
But back'd by all the Council,—yea, by all,
For I'll be warranty no voice dissents,—
Back'd by the Council, wherein weighty reasons
Shall be well urged—

Bourbon.
Ay, brother, there it is!
That you have reasons of your own none doubts,
And Jacques Bonhomme will be bold to say
That reasons which are rank in Burgundy
Have been transplanted to the soil of France
That fits them not.

Burgundy.
In Jacques Bonhomme's throat
I'll tell him that he slanders me and lies.
No soil in Christendom but fits my reasons;
No soil where virtue, chivalry, and faith
Are fed and flourish, but shall fit them well.
When honour and nobility fall prone
In Flanders, think you they stand fast in France?
Or losing ground in France, have hope elsewhere?
This by no narrow bound is circumscribed:
It is the cause of chivalry at large.
Though heir to Flanders I am Frenchman born,
And nearer have at heart the weal of France
Than my far-off inheritance. Come, come;
Lay we before the Council the sad truth
Of these distractions that so rock the realm,—
Paris possess'd by Nicholas le Flamand,
Where law's a nothing and the King a name;
Armies with mallets but beginning there,
And gathering like the snow-wreaths in a storm
Before a man hath time to get him housed,
At Chalons on the Marne, Champagne, Beauvoisin,
At Orleans, at Rheims, at Blois, and Rouen,
And every reach of road from Paris south:
Then point we to the north, where Artevelde
Wields at his single will the Flemish force,
A hundred thousand swords; and ask what fate
Awaits our France, if those with these unite,
Bold villans both, and ripe for riving down
All royalty,—thereafter or therewith
Nobility!—Then strike whiles yet apart
Each single foe.

Bourbon.
But Philip speaks us fair.

Burgundy.
If fair, then false.

Sir Fleureant.
My Lords, there's proof of that
Here close at hand; a yeoman from Tournesis
But now arrived with news of ravage done
On the French frontier.

Burgundy.
There, good brother, there!
There's Flemish friendship, Flemish love of peace!
Shall we make nought of this?

Bourbon.
We'll sift the tale,
And find if it be true.

Burgundy.
Where is the man?

Sir Fleureant.
I'll bring him in, my Lord; he's here at hand.

[Exit.
Enter the King with a Hawk on his hand.
Burgundy.
How now, my royal cousin, have you done?
Can you repeat the speech?

King.
O yes, good uncle.
“Right noble our liege Councillors, all, We greet you!
We have required your—”

Burgundy.
Presence here this day.

King.
“We have required your presence here this day
On matters of high import, which surcharge
Our royal mind, that still affects the weal
Of our beloved lieges. Much to peace
Our tender years incline us, but—but—but—”
I'll fly my hawk, good uncle, now; to-morrow
I'll say the rest. Come, Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!
He is a Marzarolt, uncle, just reclaim'd;
The best in France for flying at the fur.
Whew! Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!

Burgundy.
Cousin, stay.
Enter Sir Fleureant with the Yeoman.
Here is a worthy yeoman from Tournesis
Who hath a tale to tell of ravage done
Upon the realm of France.

King.
A yeoman, uncle?
Here, worthy yeoman, you shall kiss our hand.
Get off there, Jerry.

[The Yeoman kneels and kisses his hand.
Bourbon.
Now, Sir, from what place,
In France or Flanders, com'st thou?

Yeoman.
Please you, Sir,
'Twas a small holding from my lord of Vergues,
Close to the liberties of Fontenoy.

Bourbon.
This side the Bourn?

Yeoman.
Three miles, my Lord, no less.

Burgundy.
Three miles in France.

Bourbon.
And what befell thee there?

Yeoman.
My Lord, my wife and I, on Wednesday night,
Saw fires to the north and westward, up by Orcq
And round to Beau-Renard, and knew by that
The Flemish Commons had been there, that late
Have roam'd through Flanders, burning where they came
The houses of the Gentlemen and Knights.
Then said my wife (Pierilla, if it please you),
“'Tis well we're yeomen and of poor estate,
And that we're lieges of a mightier Lord
Than was the Count of Flanders: praised be God!
Or else might they that look from Beau-Renard
To south and eastward, see this house on fire
To-morrow night, as we this night see theirs!”
But hardly had she said it, when due south
The sky was all on fire; and then we knew
The Flemings were in France, and Auzain burn'd.
We fled at once, and looking back, beheld
Our humble dwelling flaming like a torch.
So then, quoth I, we'll to my Lord the King,
And tell what's come to pass.

Burgundy.
Thou hast done well;
Retire: His Grace will shortly bring thy wrongs
Before the Council. Hold thyself prepared
To tell thy story there.
[Exit Yeoman.
Wild work! wild work!
I think my royal cousin, though he's young,
Bears yet a mind too mettlesome to brook
Such injuries as these. Your Grace has heard:
The Flemish hordes lift plunder in your realm,
Driving your subjects from their peaceful homes,
Burning, destroying, wheresoe'er they reach,
And ever on nobility they fall
With sharpest tooth; let this have leave to grow,
And French insurgents shall from Flemish learn
The tricks of treason, German boors from both,
Till Kings and Princes, Potentates and Peers,
Landgraves, Electors, Palatines, and Prelates,
Dukes, Earls, and Knights, shall be no more esteemed
Than as the noblest and the loftiest trees
Which the woodwarden as he walks the forest
Marks for the axe. Our warlike cousin King
When once he takes the field shall give short shrift
To the base Flemings, and with one sharp blow
Cut off some twenty thousand treasons, hatched,
Accursed, pernicious brood! beneath the wings
Of this Van Artevelde, that chipp'd the shell
Two months agone when Paris grew too hot
To hold us, and that now are fledged and enter'd.
I would your Grace were even now in arms,
Leading your gallant troops.

King.
To-morrow, uncle!
We will be arm'd and lead our troops to-morrow.
We'll ride the chestnut with the bells at his heels.

Bourbon.
Nay, softly! Should the Council when it meets
Declare for war, your force can not so soon
Be drawn together as your Highness thinks,
Though lying mainly hereabouts.

Burgundy.
Well, well!
Speak boldly to the Council as to us,
And if you'd presently be in the field
Be diligent to learn your speech—come in—
Both that you have and something I shall add
Touching this yeoman's grief—come in with me—
Ho! take away this hawk—and you shall have it.

[Exeunt Duke of Burgundy and the King.
Bourbon.
My brother, Fleureant, is all too hot
In this affair; he's ever taking starts
And leaving them that he should hold in hand.
He'll fright the Council from their calmer sense
And drive them to some rash resolve.

Sir Fleureant.
My Lord,
You shall perceive to-morrow at the board
How vast and voluble a thing is wit,
And what a sway a little of it hath
With Councillors of State. My Lord your brother
Will blaze and thunder through a three hours' speech,
And stamp and strike his fist upon the board,
Whilst casements rattling and a fall of soot
Shall threaten direful war.

Bourbon.
The Constable,
The Earls of Ewe and Blois, St. Poule and Laval,
Guesclin, St. Just, the Seneschal of Rieux,
Raoul of Raneval,—all these and more
Look, to my knowledge, clean the other way.
They deem a mission should be set on foot
Before the sword be drawn; and with my will
Nought else shall come to pass.

Sir Fleureant.
Van Artevelde,
Though obstinate at times, is politic too,
And lacks not understanding; he'll not brave
The wrath of France if he be well approached.

Bourbon.
I spake with one last night who came from Bruges
And on his way had sojourn'd in the camp
At Oudenarde, where, when the turbulent towns
Behind his back can spare him from their broils,
Van Artevelde o'ersees the leaguering force.
There was a market in the camp, he said,
And all things plentiful,—fruit, cheese, and wine,
All kinds of mercery, cloth, furs, and silks,
With trinketry, the plunder daily brought
By Van den Bosch's marauders. Went and came
All men that chose from Brabant, Hainault, Liege,
And Germany; but Frenchmen were forbidden.
Van Artevelde, he said, in all things apes
The state and bearing of a Sovereign Prince;
Has bailiffs, masters of the horse, receivers,
A chamber of accompt, an audience hall,
Off gold and silver eats, is clad in robes
Of scarlet furr'd with minever, gives feasts
With minstrelsy and dancing night and day
To damsels and to ladies,—whom amongst
Pre-eminent is that Italian minx
The girl Elēna, late a toy of mine.
To Bruges in company with me she came,
Where waiting till on my return from Liege
I could rejoin her, to the conqueror's hands
She fell when Bruges was taken.

Sir Fleureant.
Soh, my Lord!
That lady hath a hook that twitches still.
If what I heard in Gascony be true
In vain you claim'd her from Van Artevelde,
Who answer'd not your missives.

Bourbon.
True it is;
And he shall answer for so answering not,
If any voice of potency be mine
Touching this war. But he may yet take thought
And make amends; I'll send him once again
A message, and I know not who's so fit
To take it as thyself.

Sir Fleureant.
My Lord, my tongue
Can utter nought with so much grace by half
As what you bid it speak.

Bourbon.
Then thou shalt go.
Not that for foolishness and woman's love
I would do this or that, but thou shalt note
My honour is impawn'd. Some half-hour hence
Come to my chamber, where in privacy
We'll further speak of this; and bring thou there
The yeoman of Tournesis; he must learn
How to demean himself before the Board.
He has been tamper'd with, I nothing doubt,
And what he's tutor'd to must we unteach.
Things run too fast to seed.

[Exit.
Sir Fleureant.
What soldier's heart
By dotage such as his was e'er possess'd
Upon a paramour! To win her back
Peace, war, or anything to him were good,
Nought evil but what works contrariwise.
And still his love goes muffled up for shame,
And masks itself with show of careless slights
And giving her ill names of jade and minx,
Gipsy and slut.—The world's a masquerade,
And he whose wisdom is to pay it court
Should mask his own unpopular penetration
And seem to think its several seemings real.