For must it not be thought some base men's sɔuls
Have ta'en the seats of yours and turn'd you out,
If in the coldness of a craven heart

Ye should forgive this bloody-minded man
For all his black and murderous monstrous crimes?
Think of your mariners, three hundred men,
After long absence in the Indian seas,
Upon their peaceful homeward voyage bound,
And now, all dangers conquer'd as they thought,
Warping the vessels up their native stream,
Their wives and children waiting them at home
In joy, with festal preparation made,-
Think of these mariners, their eyes torn out,
Their hands chopp'd off, turn'd staggering into Ghent
To meet the blasted eye-sight of their friends?
And was not this the Earl? 'T was none but he !
No Hauterive of them all had dared to do it

Save at the express instance of the Earl.

And now what asks he? Pardon me, sir knights,

[To GRUTT and BETTE,

I had forgotten, looking back and back.
From felony to felony foregoing,
This present civil message which ye bring:
Three hundred citizens to be surrender'd

Up to that mercy which I tell you of→

That mercy which your mariners proved-which steep'd Courtray and Ypres, Grammont, Bruges, in blood!

Three hundred citizens,-a secret list

No man knows who-not one can say he's safe-
Not one of you so humble but that still
The malice of some secret enemy

May whisper him to death-and hark-look to it!
Have some of you seem'd braver than their fellows,
Their courage is their surest condemnation;

They are marked men-and not a man stands here
But may be so.-Your pardon, sirs, again!

[To GRUTT and BETTE.

You are the pickers and the choosers here,
And doubtless you're all safe, ye think-ha! ha!
But we have pick'd and chosen, too, sir knights,--
What was the law for I made yesterday-
What is it you that would deliver up

Three hundred citizens to certain death?

Ho! Van den Bosch! have at these traitors-there[Stabs GRUTT, who falls. Van den Bosch. Die, treasonable dog-is that enough? Down, felon, and plot treacheries in hell.

[Stabs BETTE.

[The WHITE-HOODS draw their swords, with loud cries of TREASON,' 'ARTEVELDE,' and 'GHENT.' A citizen of the other party, who in the former part of the scene had unfurled the EARL'S banner, now throws it down and flies; several others are following him, and the ALDERMEN and DEANS, some of whom had been dropping off towards the end of ARTEVELDE'S speech, now quit the platform with precipitation. VAN AESWYN is crossed by VAN DEN BOSCH.

Van den Bosch. Die thou, too, traitor.

Artevelde, (warding it off)

[Aiming a blow at him.

Van den Bosch, forbear.

Up with your weapons, White-Hoods; no more blood. These only are the guilty who lie here.

Let no more blood be spilt on pain of death.

Sirs, ye have nought to fear; I say, stand fast ;
No man shall harm you; if he does, he dies.
Stand fast, or if ye go, take this word with you,
Philip Van Artevelde is friend with all:

There's no man lives within the walls of Ghent
But Artevelde will look to him and his,

And suffer none to plunder or molest him.
Haste, Van den Bosch! by heav'n they run like lizards!
Take they not heart the sooner, by St. Paul
They'll fly the city, and that cripples us.
Haste with thy company to the West Wards,
And see thou that no violence be done
Amongst the weavers and the fullers-stay-
And any that betake themselves to pillage
Hang without stint-and hark-begone-yet stay;
Shut the west gate, postern and wicket too,
And catch my Lord of Occo where thou canst.
Stay, on thy life let no man's house be plunder'd.
Van den Bosch. That is not to my mind; but what of
that?

Thou'st play'd the game right boldly, and for me,
I've sworn to stead thee,—and what's more, I will.

Artevelde. Thou to thine errand, then, and I myself,
Will go from street to street through all the town,
To reassure the citizens; that done,

I'll meet thee here again. Form, White-Hoods, form:
Range ten abreast; I'm coming down; but stay—
You Floris, Leefdale, Spanghen, mount ye here,
And bear me down these bodies.

Now set forth.

Sir Henry Taylor.

LXV.

WILLIAM TELL.

ACT IV. SCENE II.

Without the Castle. Enter, slowly, several citizens, as if observing something following them. VERNER and THEODORE.

Verner. The pace they're moving at is that of men About to do the work of death. Some wretch

Is doom'd to suffer.

Should it be Tell!

Should it be my friend

Theodore. No doubt 'tis some good man.

Ver. Poor Switzerland! poor country! Not a son Is left to thee that's worthy to be one.

'Tis not a common man, with such parade,

They lead to death: I count four castellains already.
The. There's a fifth.

Ver. And Sarnem, too!

Do you see him?

The. Yes; and Gesler follows him.

Who can it be?

Ver. We'll see. He's coming now

'Tis William Tell!

The. Verner, do you know the boy

That follows him?

Ver. A boy! It is his son !

What horror's to be acted?

The headsman?

Do you see

The. No! I see no headsman there, No apparatus for the work of death.

Perhaps they're not to suffer!

Ver.

Lo you how

The women clasp their hands, and now and then
Look up to heaven! You see that some do weep.
No headsman's there; but Gesler's at no loss
For means of cruelty because there lacks

A headsman !

Pierre.

Enter PIERRE.

Horrible !-most-horrible

Decree! To save his own and Albert's life,
Tell is to shoot an apple from the head

Of his own child!

Enter, slowly, Burghers and Women, LUTOLD, RODOLPH, GERARD, SARNEM, GESLER, TELL, ALBERT, and a Soldier bearing TELL's bow and quiver—another with a basket of apples-Soldiers, etc.

Gesler. That is your ground.

Now shall they

Tell. What is't to me? A little thing,
A very little thing-a yard or two,

Is nothing here or there-were it a wolf
I shot at Never mind.

Ges. Be thankful, slave,

Our grace accords thee life on any terms.

Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler! Villain! stop!

You measure to the sun.

Ges. And what of that?

What matter whether to or from the sun?

Tell. I'd have it at my back-the sun should shine