University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

—Night. A Wood near Bruges.
The Lord of Occo and Followers.
Occo.
No more than half a league to Bruges? then halt,
And let the men-at-arms be drawn together
Where the ground's open. Berckel, ride thou on
And hail the warders on the walls; make known
That for the love which we have shown the Earl
We're driven forth of Ghent, and humbly crave
His hospitality.
[To Van Aeswyn, who enters.
Van Aeswyn! What?
Where is the litter?

Van Aeswyn.
Dropped some mile behind
To rest the bearers.

Occo.
Lazy, loitering rogues!
What of the Lady?

Van Aeswyn.
Still much moved.

Occo.
Go back;
Keep thou beside her, lest she should prevail
To make the varlets speak. Let none approach
After we pass the gates but men of mine,
Nor ever let the litter be unclosed.
Now, if we're all in order, march we on.

Scene II.

—A Banqueting Hall in the Stadt-House at Bruges. Tables are spread, and the Earl of Flanders, the Hase of Flanders, with several Lords, Knights, and followers of the Earl, are entertained by the Mayor of Bruges and the Aldermen.
Earl.
Sir Mayor, we thank you; 'tis a royal feast.

Mayor.
My gracious Lord, the supper is but poor;
Very exceeding poor the supper is;
And yet the most we can; your humble hosts,
Being but meagre citizens God wot,
Can but purvey your Highness what they have,
A very sorry supper.

Alderman.
True indeed.
Yet if your Highness please to cast it up,
A hundred florins—

Mayor.
Hold thy peace, Van Holst;
The minstrels twang their cat-gut.

Earl .
(aside to the Hase)
In good time;
If aught could make me cast my supper up
'Twere to taste further of their courtesies.
Soho, Sir Minstrel! what hast got to sing?

Van Holst.
That has been cared for, please your Highness; yes,
We knew your Highness had a skilful ear,
And 'twas not every poesy would please.
This is a ditty craftily conceited,
Trump'd up as 'twere extempore for the nonce!
He was no tavern cantabank that made it,
But a Squire Minstrel of your Highness's court.
So—sing, Sir Minstrel—there you have it—ah!
Fal-lal—the very thing—the tune's “Green Sleeves.”

THE MINSTREL SINGS.
Earl.

A singular good song and daintily accompanied with the music. Give him three florins and a denier for the lad withal.

Van Holst.

Your Highness is too bountiful. He made it not himself. 'Twas your Highness's Serjeant-Minstrel that made it. The making and mending of it together

was seven days and nights, bating twelve hours for sleeping, and four hours for eating, and five minutes for saying his prayers. Drinking never stopped him, for still the more he drank the more he made of it. And he ranted and sang, an' it like your Highness, that it would have pleased you to hear him; for being that the song was made in honour of your Highness, he said he could sing it a thousand times over and think better of it every time.

Earl.

It is good poesy—marry and good prophecy too. Hark you, Master Mayor; I have somewhat repented me that I was wrought upon by those old Knights of Ghent to proffer terms of such easy acquittance.

Mayor.

When your Highness is graciously pleased to give away your advantages, it is not for such as I to say you do wrong; but every man in Bruges that is well affected to your Highness said that three hundred heads was too little.

Earl.

By my faith they said true; and Gilbert Matthew told me no less; but I was persuaded by the old Knights; I was too easy with them. Where is Gilbert Matthew?

Gilbert.
Here, my Lord.

Earl.
Come hither, Gilbert. I have bethought me, Gilbert,
I almost sinn'd against true chivalry
To let yon rabble off.

Gilbert.
Your Highness says it.

Earl.
Thou'dst tell me 'twas not by thy counsels.

Gilbert.
Sir,
As many heads of each insurgent craft
Would not have been denied. A hundred nail'd
Like weasels to the gates of each wall'd town
Thorough the States of Flanders—that had been
A warning wholesome and significant
To the good towns.

Earl.
A salutary sign.
I would the bargain were to make again.
Why so now! who comes here? Sir Walter? Yes.
Enter Sir Walter D'Arlon.
D'Arlon, I never see thee but with joy.
What new adventure hast thou been upon?
We miss thee oft at Court, but thy return
Is ever with new honours at thy heels.
What captives follow thee to Bruges to-night?
Or hast thou turn'd base metal into gold
And bring'st their ransoms?—either way is well.

D'Arlon.
My Lord, I come alone.

Earl.
Why, welcome still!

D'Arlon.
Yet there is something following at my heels
Which hardly shall your Highness in like sort
Make welcome here.

Earl.
Why, say'st thou? what is that?

D'Arlon.
Ill rumours, my good Lord.

Earl.
Ill rumours? how?

D'Arlon.
The rebels are alive again and fresh.
The messengers of peace lie stabb'd to death
Upon the steps i' the market-place.

Earl.
Not so!
It cannot be;—D'Arlon, it must be false.

D'Arlon.
I fear, my Lord, it will not so be found.

Earl.
Nay, nay,—so stripp'd of everything—so bare
As we had made them—scarce a leader left,
And those that were, so wild and scant of skill!

D'Arlon.
That were an ugly breach if not repair'd.
They've made young Artevelde their chief.

Earl.
God help them!
A man that as much knowledge has of war
As I of brewing mead! God help their souls!
A bookish nursling of the monks—a meacock!

D'Arlon.
My Lord, I'm fearful you mistake the man.
If my accounts be true, the life he's led
Served rather in its transit to eclipse
Than to show forth his nature; and, that pass'd,
You'll now behold him as he truly is,
One of a cold and of a constant mind,
Not quicken'd into ardent action soon,
Nor prompt for petty enterprise, yet bold,
Fierce when need is, and capable.

Earl.
Thou sayst?
And hath he slain the Knights!

D'Arlon.
With his own hand.

Earl.
I tell thee it is false; it cannot be.
Thou, Gilbert Matthew, what think'st thou?

Gilbert.
My Lord,
It may be there's some skirmishing at Ghent,
Which rumour, floating like a mist before,
Augments to this.

Earl.
Thou deem'st there's nought to fear?

Gilbert.
I deem of Ghent as of a winter fly
That in a gleam of sunshine creeping forth
Kicks with stiff legs a feeble stroke or two
And falls upon its back.

Earl.
Then all is well.
Gilbert, thy wisdom never was at fault.
A comfortable councillor art thou.
Sirrah, what news?

[To an Attendant who enters.
Attendant.
The Lord of Occo, Sir,
Came with his men-at-arms before the walls,
And being that he was driven forth of Ghent,
The warders have admitted him, and here
He waits your pleasure.

Earl.
Bid him in at once.
He comes like confirmation. Oh Ghent! Ghent!
Oh ye ungracious people!
Enter the Lord of Occo.
Speak, Sir Guy;
Out with the worst, for I have guessed it all.
Fame was here first as breathless as you are.

Occo.
'Tis the worst fortune e'er befell me yet
To be the bearer of this heavy news.
Our friends are slain, the White-Hoods hold the town,
And he, the homicide whose bloody hand
Despatch'd the peaceful Knights, is Lord of all.

Earl.
Oh that unhappy people! hear me, God!
Hear me, ye Host of Heaven and all good men!
If e'er I lift the wine-cup to my lips,
If ever other than a soldier's bed
Contain me, or if any pleasant sport
Inveigle off my heart while that town stands,
May I be driven from my royalties
To dwell with beasts like him that sinn'd of old!
Rise, Sirs; no more of feasting here. Sir Guy,
Such entertainment as such times afford
We'll give you. Bid my chamberlain see to it.
Adieu, Sirs; when the walls of Ghent lie flat
Our revel we resume.

D'Arlon.
Leave me, my Lord,
The entertainment of your friends from Ghent;
My house will hold them.— [Aside.]
Grant me this, my Lord;
They need a supervisor.

Earl.
Good;—Sir Guy,
Sir Walter D'Arlon is your host at Bruges.
At noon to-morrow come to Council, Sirs,
You that are of it. Minstrel, stand aside—
What! are you blind? Good night, good night, adieu.

Scene III.

—A Chamber in the Lord of Arlon's House. Adriana Van Merestyn and three Attendants in the Lord of Occo's livery.
Adriana.
Whither have you brought me, Sirs? What house is this?
Nay, must I ask for ever? Wilt not speak?
Nor thou, nor thou? If ye are bid be dumb,
But say ye are so, and I'll ask no more.

First Attendant.
Madam, we are.

Adriana.
Who bid you?—not a word?
If you're afraid to tell me, make a sign.
Was it the Lord of Occo? 'Twas not he?
Then whosoe'er enjoin'd it, send him here.
Entreat him were it but for courtesy
To come to me. He that hath tied your tongues
May loose them or be free to use his own.
I pray thee send him; thou art not so rude,
To guess thee by thy mien, as this so slight,
So slender service to deny me—no—
Or else thou wear'st a mask.
[The first Attendant goes out. She turns aside from the others.
Befriend me now,
Heart, head, and tongue, if life is left them still.
Oh for some potion that for one hour's space
Should make me twice myself!

Enter Van Aeswyn.
Aeswyn
(to the Attendants.)
Depart the chamber.

[Exeunt Attendants.
Adriana.
Master Van Aeswyn!

Aeswyn.
Madam!

Adriana.
It is thou
That thus abusest me!

Aeswyn.
I, Madam! No;
I have done nothing; if a wrong there be,
It lies with others; I have but obey'd
Whom I am bound to serve.

Adriana.
Alas! thy guilt
Is but more abject, being ministrant
Unto another's, and thyself no less
Accountable to Heaven. His lust and greed
Whom thou abettest thou dost make thine own
And nothing gett'st but wages of thy work
To pay thy sin. What! is't not shame on shame?
Thou puttest thine immortal soul to sale
For profit of another, thy reward
Being the sorry guerdon of a Squire
With blot and stain of such addition vile
Of countenance and favour, bred of guilt,
As he that uses thee may please to show thee.
Oh soil of bad men's service! Thou to stamp
A gentle name with stigma of such deeds!
Oh curse of bad men's hire!

Aeswyn.
Nay, Madam, nay,
'Tis not for countenance, still less for hire:
But I have taken service with this Lord,
And by the law of arms—

Adriana.
What law is that?
'Tis not the law of God, nor yet above it.

Aeswyn.
An honest Squire is bound by plighted faith
And by the law of arms, to execute
His Lord's behests.

Adriana.
Though they be base and foul
And cowardly and craven? Law of arms!
Grant 'twere that law supernal it is not,
Yet dost thou break it, for all wrongs to women
Stand in its code denounced.

Aeswyn.
By all that's just
The deed misliked me from the first; three times
I pray'd his Lordship to bethink himself
What quittance he should hazard and what blame
In wronging of so rich and good a lady;
But still he said the Earl should bring him through
Let come what might; insisting that by law
You were in wardship, and his Grace might grant
Your hand to whom was fittest.

Adriana.
Oh blind craft
And ignorance of covetous knaves! They err.
Me shall no earthly Prince nor Potentate
Toss like a morsel of his broken meat
To any supplicant. Be they advised
I am in wardship to the King of Kings;
God and my heart alone dispose of me.

Aeswyn.
Madam, I would it were so.

Adriana.
Say besides
The Earl should cast the mantle of his power
Over thy master, what shall cover thee,
That canst not borrow greatness for the cloak
Of evil deeds, from naked, manifest shame?
Lo, here I stand in jeopardy and fear,
Weak, trembling, sick at heart, and wearied so
With perturbation and with pain so rack'd
That I have lost my patience and for hours
Have pray'd for God's deliverance through death;
Yet rather would I, yea, far rather, live
A dateless life of anguish such as this,
Rather live out my reason thus and twist
For restless years upon a bed-rid couch
With the sole sense of dotage and distress,
Than change with thee and take upon my soul
Thy forfeiture and lodge within my breast
That worm of memory which to-day shall breed.
And which upon thy death-bed shall not die,
But being of the soul shall be immortal.
Go—God forgive thee! for not mine the heart
That would invoke a curse.

Aeswyn.
Lady, I swear
I bore a part not willingly in this;
And could I without ruin of my fortunes
Do aught that should redeem it—

Adriana.
For thy fortunes,
Trust them to me.

Enter one of the Attendants.
Attendant.
My Lord is at the gate
And asks for you.

[Exit.
Adriana.
I say, trust them to me.
Do to thyself the justice to renounce
This false Knight's service, and to me one act
Of loyalty: seek out with instant haste
The Lord of Arlon; tell him I am here
In tribulation and beseech his aid,
And bid him by the love he bears his lady
To grant it me with speed. Wilt thou do this?

Aeswyn.
Madam, I will.

Adriana.
Go now then to thy Lord,
Lest he suspect thy tarriance. I within
Will wait the issue. Make all speed thou canst.

Scene IV.

—An Ante-chamber in the Earl's Palace.
Sir Walter D'Arlon and Gilbert Matthew.
Gilbert.
No sooner had his Highness reach'd his door
Than he sends back for me.

D'Arlon.
And me the same.

Gilbert.
His Highness is not happy.

D'Arlon.
That may be;
But have you private cause to think it?

Gilbert.
Well,
I've taken note that when he is not happy
He sends for me.

D'Arlon.
And do you mend his mood?

Gilbert.
Nay, what I can. His Highness at such times
Would fain be counsell'd to shed blood.

D'Arlon.
To that
'Tis said that he is counsell'd oft.

Gilbert.
Oh, ho!
I tender my advice as duty bids
With neither fear nor favour. As I came
The bodies of three citizens lay stretch'd
Upon the causeway.

D'Arlon.
How had they been kill'd?

Gilbert.
By knocking on the head.

D'Arlon.
Yes; and by whom?

Gilbert.
The officers that walk'd before the Earl
To make him room to pass. The streets were full,
And many of the mean-crafts roam'd about
Discoursing of the news they heard from Ghent;
And as his Highness pass'd they misbehaved
And three were knock'd upon the head with staves.
I knew by that his Highness was not happy;
I knew I should be sent for.
Enter an Usher from an inner chamber.

Usher.
Ho! Master Gilbert Matthew, pass within.

[Re-enters the chamber, followed by Gilbert Matthew.
D'Arlon.
There's some men of their bloody counsels boast,
As though it were heroic to be hard.

Enter an Attendant.
Attendant.
My Lord, there's some one of the flight from Ghent
Who seeks you. I inform'd him you were here
In waiting on his Highness, but he still
Insisted you would see him, did you know
The matter and its urgency.

D' Arlon.
His name?

Attendant.
Van Aeswyn.

D' Arlon.
What! Sir Guy of Occo's Squire?

Attendant.
The same, my Lord.

D'Arlon.
Yes, yes, the man I know,
But not the matter that he hath with me;—
Unless it be some difference with my steward
About his quarters. Bring me where he waits.

Scene V.

—A Chamber in the Earl's Palace.
The Earl and Gilbert Matthew.
Earl.
And thus, if all that we have heard be true,
Last night's ill news this morning somewhat mends.
There's reason to surmise these granaries
Were not destroy'd by chance, and that the hand
Which did us this good service may do more.
Meantime we'll pray the Bishop and the Duke
To let no victuals pass their lands.

Gilbert.
In that
You shall do well, my Lord. I know that folk;
No poison works so wastingly amongst them
As a low diet—yea, it brings them down.
There'll be a hundred thousand mouths in Ghent
Gaping like callow jackdaws. Ah! I know them;
The men of battle are full feeders all;
By the strong hand they live and help themselves
With griping of the rest; when famine comes,
'Tis worse to those, seeing that theretofore
They were too gross of body; worse to these,
For they were pinched already.

Earl.
That is true.

Gilbert.
Yea, Sir, I know the White-Hoods. Wait awhile,
And when they feel the vulture in their gut
They shall be busy whetting of their beaks.
Wait till they hunger, and not two in Ghent
Shall be of one opinion.

Earl.
In God's time
Distress shall breed dissensions as thou say'st.
We'll trust to that, and therefore have great heed
To block them out from access of provision.
The country is well wasted thereabouts
And what they get must travel far: ere long
We'll cut them off from Brabant and from Liege.

Enter the Lord of Arlon.
D'Arlon.
My Lord, I do beseech you make me quit
Of Occo for my guest, and give us leave
For instant combat.

Earl.
Walter, art thou mad?
The Lord of Occo! What's thy breach with him?
He is since yesterday, with thy good leave,
Our very worthy friend.

D'Arlon.
My Lord, my Lord,
He is since yesterday, if not before,
The very lewdest villain that was e'er
A blur and stain to knighthood.

Earl.
Say'st thou so?
What are thy reasons?

D'Arlon.
With a violent hand
And treacherous he carried off from Ghent
The noblest of her ladies and the best,
Whose honour he attempted yesternight
Beneath my roof: and here on her behalf
And on my own, your Highness I entreat
That you give order to have lists prepared
Where I may meet the miscreant spear to spear
And do God's will upon him.

Earl.
Soft, my son;
I'll have no fighting for a private cause
Till Ghent be down. I cannot spare a spear;
And this were but a childish cause at best
For breaking one. The honest dames of Ghent
Have scarce deserved protection at our hands;
And when the time shall come, as come it will,
That Ghent is storm'd and sack'd, they'll have no more
Than their deserts: free quarters shall they give
To lusty knight, hot squire, and man-at-arms.
Shall they not, Gilbert?

Gilbert.
Sir, the dames of Ghent
Must take what comes.

Earl.
Then Occo sinn'd not much
To seize occasion by the forelock,—ha?

Gilbert.
My Lord, he did but what was just and right.

D'Arlon.
Peace, Master Gilbert Matthew—stand apart;
I seek an audience direct and free,
No craft of juggling renegade betwixt
To interpose and toss me to and fro
The words that please him or that please him not.
My Lord, you know what service I have done,
And with what voluntary heart, not bound
By duty or allegiance to bear arms,
For in my native land the while was peace.
I scarce am call'd a man, and service yet
I count by years, nor leave a winter out.
I was the nursling of your camp, my Lord,
And played with weapons ere my hands had strength
To lift an iron basnet to my head;
The war-horse neigh'd to see me when my legs
His breadth of back bestrided scarce aslope,
And rarely hath it been from that time forth
That I have housed when men-at-arms took horse.
This it befits not me to say, my Lord,
Save for the just conclusion: I entreat
That if it square not with your ways and will
To grant the combat I am bound to claim,
I then have leave to fold my banner up
And quit your camp.

Earl.
Come, Walter, come, you're idle;
When cause and opportunity are rife
For reasonable fighting, we might well
Dispense with all knight-errantry. Enough;
See the moon out, and if thy humour hold
It shall have way; the next that shines, I trust,
Shall cast upon the battered walls of Ghent
A thorough light.

D'Arlon.
Which if I live to see
I'll claim the combat. Fare you well, my Lord.

[Exit.
Earl.
Was ever man, with denizens for foes
And foreigners for friends, so plagued as I!
My bravest Knight would cast away his life
To do me a disservice, with more zeal
Than he was used to serve me with: denied,
Straight he shall tell me he was born elsewhere
And owes me no allegiance.

Gilbert.
By your leave,
I could not wish your Highness better luck
Than that the fools you count amongst your friends
Were number'd with your foes,—or with the dead.

Enter Attendant.
Attendant.
According to the summons, please your Grace,
The Lords are met in Council.

Earl.
I shall come.
Attend me, Gilbert, when the board breaks up,
And thou shalt know the issue. Come to dine.
And Sirrah, tell the butler that to-day
I shall drink brandy. From all use of wine
I'm interdicted by a sacred vow
Till Ghent's submission free me. Be it soon!