University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—A Street in the Suburbs of Ghent.
The Lord of Occo, meeting Sir Simon Bette and Sir Guisebert Grutt.
Occo.
Sir Guisebert Grutt, and, by my faith, I think
Sir Simon Bette too! Pray you pardon me;
I thought that you were sped upon your mission
To treat for peace at Bruges?

Sir Simon.
Sir, in good time.
We'd have a word with you before we go.
You are a noble born, my Lord of Occo;
And let me tell you, many marvel much
To find a gentleman of so great worth
A flatterer of the Commons.

Sir Guisebert.
Yea, my Lord:
It looks not well when nobles fall away
One from another. That the small-crafts here
Should lift their hands against their natural Lord
Is but the plague and sorrow of the time,
Which we, that are of credit, must abide:
But ne'er till now a gentleman of name
Was found amongst their leaders.

Occo.
Oh, dear Sirs,
I could remind you how your sometime selves
Bore less goodwill towards the Earl's affairs
Than spurs your errand now; and if to you
Pardon be promised, I would fain be told
Why not to me as well.

Sir Guisebert.
Truly, why not?
To whoso merits it 'twill freely fall;
So give us leave to make a good report
Of how you stand affected.

Occo.
You are kind,
And I am nothing loth. So please you, say
That I am not of them that evermore
Cry out for war, and having not a hope
Of the Earl's mercy, act as desperate men;
For were I sure the many would be spared,
It should not then behove me to stand out
For my particular ransom,—though, to say truth,
The Earl should get himself but little gain
Were he to deal too hardly with us all.

Sir Simon.
'Tis fairly spoken, Sir. When we come back,
Bringing conditions with us as we trust,
We'll ask your aid amongst the Commons. Yea,
For truly there are here a sort of crafts
So factious still for war and obstinate,
That we shall be endanger'd. Suing for peace
Is ever treason to the White-Hoods. Well,
We'll look for your support.

Occo.
In me, be sure
A friendly overture shall find a friend.

[Exeunt Sir Simon Bette and Sir Guisebert Grutt. Van Aeswyn comes forward.
Aeswyn.
My Lord, were those that parted from you here
The worshipful negotiators?

Occo.
Ay!
Would they had pass'd the windmills—how they crawl!—
And met no babbling burghers on their way.

Aeswyn.
What! you have made an offer?

Occo.
No, not so;
I've flung my line, and yonder pair of hooks
Are aptly baited to ensure me one;
But I am not, nor mean I to be bound,
Till it be seen if yet my suit may thrive
With yon fair frozen dew-drop, all that's left
To represent Van Merestyn's hot blood.

Aeswyn.
'Tis said she is but backwardly inclined
To any of her swains.

Occo.
Such wealth as hers
Makes a maid whimsical and hard to please.
She that can have her will, be what it may,
Is much to seek to settle what it is.
The damsel must be tried; for if she yield,
The charier must I be, whilst times permit,
Of the good town's goodwill. Her lands lie all
Within the Franc of Ghent. Time presses now,
And I must press my suit. This very hour
I bade her to expect me. Forth we go.