Chapter 3

_Enter Magdalen, Timothy and Alexander_.

_Ma_. Run, good sweet _Timothy_; search the barnes, the stab[les], while I looke in the Chambers. Should she be lost or come to any harme my lady will hang us all. Why dost not fly?

_Tim_. Hey day, if her feet walke as fast as thy tongue, sh[e's] far enough ere this time. What a stir you make! Were you, as shee is, with your sweet heart, you would [be] pursud, would you? You would be hangd as soone. Al[as], good gentlewoman, heaven speed her!

_Ma_. You will not goe then?

_Tim_. No, indeed, will I not. Her mother may be angry if she please. The time has bin she would as willingly Bin at the sport her selfe as now her daughter. The ge[ntleman] shees gon with is a man, And see theres no harme d[one], I warrant you.

_Lov_. Ha, ha, gramercy, _Timothy_, thou hittst it right. _Maudlin_, goe to; should _Tim_ here offer as much to you, ha, I beleave you would not lock your selfe up in my ladyes closett; goe to, and goe to.

[_Exeunt_.

_Ma_. Udsme, my lady!

_Enter Lady_.

_Lady_. Lost, past redemption! I pursue a fier Which like the giddy Meteors that seduce With their false light benighted travellers Allures me to distruction. To curse fate Were to allow I feard it, and admit Participation in me of that spiritt I most detest, a womans.

_Lov_. Please your good Ladyship.

_Lady_. Yes, that you depart.-- [_Exit Alexander_. What can he see in her more worthy love Then is in me? shees but a picture drawne By my dimensions, and men sooner fancy The Substance then the Shaddow. Oh, but shee Is the true image not of what I am But what I was, when like the spring I wore My virgin roses on my cheeks.

_Lov_. Madam, you seeme--

_Lady_. Angry at your impertinency; learne manners, leave me.

_Lov_. She has coniurd downe my spirit: these are immodest devills that make modest ladyes become strickers[118]. Ile out oth storme, take shelter in the cellar. Goe to and goe to; tis better venter quarriling mongst those hogesheads. [_Exit Alexander_.

_Enter Maudlin [and Timothy.]_

_Ma_. Madam, your daughter--

_Lady_. Where is she? Who? _Clariana_?

_Ma_. The faire _Belisea_.

_Enter Clariana_.

_Cla_. Did you call me, madam.

_Lady_. Noe: were you soe neere? begon againe,-- Yet stay.--_Maudlin_, avoid the Roome, and if you see Mr. _Thurston_, entreat him hither. _Timothy_, Find out my son and charge him to delay The execution of my late comaund Till I next speake with him. [_Exeunt Mag. and Tim_. _Clariana_, you did what I comanded?

_Cla_. Yes, on my Soule.

_Lady_. But thou art ignorant Why with such violence I inioyn[e]d thee To leave thy _Thurstons_ love?

_Cla_. Were I not sure Theres nought in him that can be titled ill, I should have thought your circumspective Judgment Had spide some error in him, and in care Of me your child forbidden me his love. But whatsoer's the cause, though your comaund Was like perdition welcome, my obedience Fullfild it truly, without questioning The reason why or the unlimited power Of you my mother.

_Lady_. You did very well. Now thou shalt know the reason, which before I doe relate, afford me leave to weepe, To save thy teares, which at the hearing of it Will, like the dew on lillies, pearle thy cheekes. I have beheld thee with a Rivalls eye In _Thurstons_ love; my penetrable heart, Like a moist cloud, has opened and receivd Loves fine bolt into it. Now thou knowst it, Methinks I see confusion in thy lookes Prepard to blast me.

_Cla_. Heaven forbid it I Should ere conceive the meanest thought of ill Of you, my parent. Since you love him, here To heaven and you I give my interest up And would I could as well commaund his heart As he might mine, beleive me you should then Affect you with as true and deare a zeale As ever I did him: I should be happie In making you soe.

_Lady_. Charitable girle, Forgive thy cruell mother, who must yet Impose a stronger penance on thy duty: Thou must go to thy _Thurston_, and obtaine His love.

_Cla_. A little labour will serve for that.

_Lady_. Not for thy selfe but for thy haplesse mother, Who am, without it, nothing. Woe him for me, Use the inchanting musicke of thy voice On my behalfe, who, though thy Rivall, yet Remember I'm thy mother; nor canst thou Consigne thy breath to a more holy use (Though thou shouldst spend it in religious prayers) Then to redeeme thy parent. Weepe for me, And in requitall for each drop thou shedst I'll pay to heaven a Hecatombe of teares For thy successe. But take good heede, deare child, While thou art weeping, thou dost not disclose That face of thine; for, were he mine by vow, Loves powerfull Retorick uttered [in?] thyne eyes Would winn from me.

_Enter Thurston and Thorowgood_.

_Cla_. Here comes the Gentleman.

_Lady_. Be earnest, _Clariana_, I shall heare you. [_Exit_.

_Tho_. Sir, you must iuistifie this.

_Thu_. Feare it not; yonder she goes; I'll tell her of it, sheele not denie it.

_Cla_. Mr. _Thurston_, whether do you walke soe fast?

_Thu_. O, _Clarianna_, are you there?

_Cla_. Nay, stay, I have a suite to you.

_Thu_. I would Be loth to offend your eyes; when we last met You chargd me never to behold you more.

_Cla_. I did indeed, but on mature advice I have reclaimd that imposition. You shall behold me dayly, talke with me, Doe all the acts that love with Innocence Can suffer, if youle but overrule your will To graunt me one request.

_Thu_. You wrong my faith In questioning my graunt of any thing You can desire wer't to undoe my selfe Or combate miseries as yet unheard of, You[r] least breath may expose me to them.

_Cla_. Nay, in this theres no danger; if there be A real happines on earth, this way You shall arrive to it.

_Tho_. He were unwise Would he not graunt it then.

_Thu_. Please you declare it.

_Cla_. There is a lady, Of such a perfect virtue, grace and sweetnes, That Nature was to all our sex beside A niggard, only bountiful to her; One whose harmonious bewtie may intitule All hearts its captive: yet she doats on you With such a masculine fancy that to love her Is duty in you.

_Thu_. It is herselfe, Ime sure.

_Tho_. It surely is no other.

_Cla_. No, tis one So farr transcending me, that twere a sinne Should I deprive you, the most perfect man, Of her, the perfectest woman. She will weepe Even at your name; breath miriads of sighes; Wring her hands thus; demonstrate all the signes Of a destracted lover; that in pitty, Though I did love you well, I have transferd My right to her, and charge you by all ties That you affect her with the same true zeale Which you did me, and ift be possible, Purer and better.

_Tho_. This is the strangest madnes I ere heard of.

_Thu_. Is it you, _Clariana_, that speake all this?

_Cla_. You know and heare it is.

_Thu_. But I doe scarce Credit my hearing, or conceive I am Mortall, for surely, had I bin, your words Like the decree of heaven had struck me dead. What strong temptation lay you on my faith! O, _Clariana_, let me but decline Passion, and tell you seriously that this Is cruel in you, first to scorne my love, Next to admitt a scruple of beleife, Though you can be perfidious to your selfe, That I can be soe. Noe; since you are lost, Ile like the solitary turtle mourne Cause I must live without you. But, pray, tell me What is she you would have me love?

_Cla_. My Mother.

_Thu_. Ha, your Mother!

_Tho_. Ist possible, lady? you much doe wrong Your innocence in laboring to enforce That upon him which is my interest. Heaven Smild at the contract twixt us; quiers of Saints Receivd our mutuall vowes, and though your Mother May in her passion seeme to have forgott Her pretious faith, yet when I shall awake Her sleeping reason with the memory Of that has past betwixt us, my strong hope Tells me I shall induce her to the spheare Which she has movd from.

_Cla_. Would heaven you could! How coldly in this cause Doe I perswade! when I would speake, my heart Checks its bold orator, my tongue, and tells it Tis traitorous to its Mr.--Noble Sir, [_kneele_ I doe conceit you infinitly good, So pittiful that mercy is in you Even naturally superlative, (forgive me, If I offend) you doe in this transgresse Humanity, to let a lady love you Without requitall. But I must professe To heaven and you, that here Ile fix to earth, Weepe till I am a statue, but Ile gaine Your pitie for her: pray consider ont.

_Thu_. Consider ont? wonder has soe engrossd To its wild use all corners of my heart That there remaines scarce one poore concave left To hold consideration. I must either Love her I hate or see her whome I love Wilfully perish. See, shee kneeles and weeps, Prays as she meant to expiate all the sinns Earth ere committed. One of those pure drops Does (as my lives blood in a soddaine trance) Surround my heart. You have prevaild, arise: At your request I will performe an act, Which may no story hold least all who love Hereafter curse the president,--Ile love her. That deathfull word comes from my torturd soule As a consent doth from a timorous maid For an enforcing ravisher.

_Tho_. You are not mad, sir? what doe you meane?

_Cla_. I thanke you. But love her dearely, _Thurston_, sheele deserv't: I doe remember, when my Father livd, How he would praise her goodnes. Think on me As one that lovd you well, but neer like her; And, if you please, bestow each day a kisse Uppon her in my memory. Soe, farewell.-- Sorrows flow high: one griefe succeed another; I die in piety to redeeme my Mother. [_Exit_.

_Tho_. But, harke you, sir, do you intend to love her.

_Thu_. Good sir, torment me not.

_Enter Grimes_.

_Grimes_. By your leave, gentlemen: good Mr. _Thorowgood_, a word or two in private.

_Thu_. Compeld to love my enemy! what man, That had but so much spiritt as a mule, Could suffer this! Lay nice prescriptions, Ambiguous bookmen, on submissive slaves; Affright with terror of a wilfull death Those whom black murders of inhumane sin Has living damnd; Ime yet in my owne heart White as a babe, as Innocent as light From any mortall guilt; and were my soule Drawn fro this mew[119] of flesh twould quickly streatch Like a swift Falkon her aspiring wings And soare at heaven. Nature instructs us Death Is due to all: how can't be then a Sinn To die, or he more guilty of offense That kills himselfe or [than?] he who in his bed Some shivoring ague murders? Ime resol[v']d; Ile rather chuse to immolate my life In Martirdome to virtue then reserve't Till it be staind with mischiefes.

_Enter Lady_.

_Lady_. How doe you, sir?

_Thu_. Oh, oh, my head, my head! Stand further of, good nightcrow: if thou comst As a presaging harbinger of death, Howlt in thy direfulst and most horrid notes, And ['t] will be wellcome as choyse musick to me And Ile adore thee fort, with teares of ioy Make thy black feathers white.

_Lady_. Good sir, mistake me not, I am your friend.

_Thu_. I cry you mercy, lady; you are shee Whom I had vowd to love;--a wild conceite Had seasd my fancy. Pardon me, I must Proclaim to heaven and to the world a truth Which I should study to forget: you are A Creature so suparlatively bad That, were the earth as absolute from sinn As in its first creation, youre sole crimes Would pull a curse upon it. I should tell you The specialties wherein you're foule, but dare not Breath in the same ayre with you; I begin To feel infection:--fare you well. [_Exit_.

_Lady_. Contemnd againe! deprive me of the name And soule of woman! render me a scorne To the most base of our revengefull sex! If I beare this while there be knives or swords, Poyson or ought left to extinguish life That womans spleene can compasse-- _Alexander_! within there!

_Enter Alexander_.

Goe to my sonn; inioyne him by all rights Of naturall duty to accomplish that Which in youre hearing I comanded him. Beare him this Jewell and this gold, that when Tis don he may escape; be carefull, As you expect my favour.

_Alex_. I shall inculcate your desires unto him. --Her favour! goe to, theres comfort. [_Exit_.

_Enter Thorowgood_.

_Tho_. Madam, theres one brings a sad message to you.

_Lady_. From whome, I pray you.

_Tho_. From two friends of yours Your cruelty has murdred,

_Lady_. My cruelty Never extended to that horrid height, Not to my foes. Who are they?

_Tho_. Your daughter, The innocent _Belisia_, and my friend, Her worthy suiter, _Bonvill_.

_Lady_. Your freind and my daughter dead and by my meanes! This cannot be; my daughters sure in the house. Good sir, unfould this ridle, it begetts Wonder and terror in me.

_Tho_. Madam, you know with what a cruel messuage You sent me to my friend, which provd as false As your faire daughter virtuous. Why you did it I will not question, nor upbraid you with This violation of your faith.

_Lady_. This story Conduces nothing to the deathes you talkd of.

_Tho_. Yes, since then A iust mistrust that you would crosse their match Causd them last night privatly to steale hence With an intention to have reacht the house Where _Bonvills_ mother lives; but see the fates How they dispose of men! crossing the River That runns beneath your orchard, and ith darke, Their headstrong horses missing the ford overthrew them And, which I cannot without true griefe utter, There drownd them both. Was it not soe, _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Tis too sad a truth; and I, After all meanes to save their life was past, Lookd to my owne and got the shore: their bodies I feare the violence of the tide has carried Into the Sea by this time.

_Lady_. Enough, good friend; no more. Had a rude _Scythian_, ignorant of teares, Unlesse the wind enforcd them from his eyes, Heard this relation, sure he would have wept; And yet I cannot. I have lost all sense Of pitty with my womanhood, and now That once essentiall Mistress of my soule, Warme charity, no more inflames my brest Than does the glowewormes ineffectual fire The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist The agravation of your sad report; [_Weepe_ Ive to much greife already.

_Tho_. It becomes you: You do appeare more glorious in these t[ears] Then the red morne when she adornes her cheeks With _Nabathean_ pearls: in such a posture Stand _Phaetons_ sisters when they doe distill Their much prisd amber. Madam, but resume Your banishd reason to you, and consider How many Iliads of preposterous mischeife From your intemperate breach of faith to me Fetch their loathed essence; thinke but on the love, The holy love I bore you, that we two --Had you bin constant--might have taught the wor[ld] Affections primitive purenes; when, from Your abrogation of it, Bonvills death, Your daughter['s] losse have luc[k]lessly insu'd. The streame that, like a Crocodile, did weepe Ore them whom with an over ravenous kisse Its moyst lips stifled, will record your fault In watery characters as lastingly As iff twere cut in marble. Heaven, forgive you; Ile pray for you; repent.

[_Exeunt Thorowgood and Grimes_.

_Grimes_. O, my deare Master!

_Lady_. Repent! should I but spend The weakest accent of my breath in sighes Or vaine compunction, I should feare I sinnd Against my will, then which I doe confes Noe other diety. Passions[120] doe surround My intellectual powers; only my heart, Like to a Rocky Island, does advance Above the foming violence of the waves Its unmovd head, bids me my fate outdare. Ills sure prevention is a swift despaire.

[_Exit_.

([SCENE] 2.)

_Enter Alexander and Young Marlowe_.

_Alex_. Thinke, sir, to whome the Iniury was don,--go to--your Lady Mother, a vertuous lady, I say and I sayt agen, a very vertuous lady. Had I but youth and strength as you have, in what cause should I sooner hazard both then in this?

_Y. M_. Murder, my friend!

_Alex_. Noe, tis doing sacrifice to slaunderd goodnes.

_Y. M_. Rob my beloved Sister of a husband!

_Alex_. Yes, to redeeme to your mother her lost honour.

_Y. M_. Art not a Divell?

_Alex_. Ha!

_Y. M_. Thy breath has blasted me.

_Alex_. I must confes indeed I have eaten garlicke.

_Y. M_. All pious thoughts that lately fild this spheare Are scatterd with the winds that issu'd from thee, Which, like the infectious yawning of a hill, Belching forth death inevitable, Has distroyd freindship and nature in me. Thou canst not poyson worse: I can feed now, Feed and nere burst with mallice. Sing, Syren, sing And swell me with revenge sweet as the straines Falls from the _Thrasian_ lyre; charme each sence With musick of Revenge, let Innocence In softest tunes like the expiring Swann Dy singing her owne Epitaph.

_Alex_. What meane you, sir? are you mad? goe to and goe to; you doe not use me well; I say and I say, you do not. Have I this for my love to you and your good Mother? Why, I might be your Father by my age, which is falne on me in my old Mrs service; he would have used me better.

_Y. M_. Dost weepe, old Crocodile? looke dost see this sword.

_Alex_. Oh, I beseech you, sir; goe to; what meane you?

_Y. M_. No harme to thee; this was my Fathers once, My honord Father; this did never view The glaring Sunn but in a noble cause, And then returnd home blushing with red spoyles, Which sung his fame and conquest. Goe, intreat My Mother be as pleasant as she was That night my Father got me. I am going, say, Most cheerfully to finish her comaund.

_Alex_. Heaven prosper you. Ha!

_Enter Thurston_.

_Thu_. Freind, I was looking for you.

_Y. M_. And you have found me, Villaine.

_Thu_. What meane you?

_Y. M_. If thou darst follow me I will conduct thee Unto the seate of death.

_Thu_. Dare! Ile goe with thee, hand in hand; goe on.

[_Exeunt ambo_.

_Alex_. Goe, goe to and goe to, I say and I sait; here wilbe some revenge. If the Gent[leman] fall my lady has promist me a farme of 100 pounds a yeare; goe to, then. Now, if her sonn be slayne, heres then this purse of gold and this rich Jewell which she sent to him. By this wee see, whoever has the worst, The fox fares well, but better when hees curst.[121] Goe to and goe to then.

[_Exit_.

_Actus Quintus_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Lady Marlowe sola_.

_Lady_. Twas[122] here about; these are the poplars, this The yewe he named. How prettily thees trees Bow, as each meant to Consecrate a branch To the drownd lovers! and, methinks, the streame Pitt[y]ing their herse should want all funerall rights, Snatches the virgin lillies from his bankes To strow their watry sepulcher. Who would Desire an easier wafting to their death Then through this River? what a pleasing sound Its liquid fingers, harping on the stones, Yeilds to th'admiring eare!

_Enter Thorowgood, Clariana, and Magdalen_.

_Mag_. This way she went, Ime sure. She has deliv[er']d So many strang distractions that I feare Sheele act some wilfull violence on her selfe If we prevent it not.

_Cla_. Yonder is somebody among the Trees Hard by the River: alasse, tis shee!

_Tho_. Come softly; if she heare our footing, her disp[aire May] anticipate our diligence.

_Lady_. Tempt me not, frailty: I disdaine revolt From ought the awfull violence of my will Has once[123] determind. Dost thou tremble, flesh? Ile cure thy ague instantly: I shall, Like some insatiate drunkard of the age, But take a cup to much and next day sleepe An hower more then ordinary.

_Tho_. Heaven and good Angells guard you!

_Cla_. My deare Mother!

_Mag_. My gratious Lady!

_Lady_. What inhumaine creatures Are you that rob me of the priviledge Of wellcome death, which I will run to meet Spight of your malice!

_Tho_. Oh decline those thoughts; Let not the lucid tapers of your soule, Bright grace and reason, fondly be extinct. Essentiall virtue, whether art thou fled, To what unknowne place? wert thou hid mongst ro[cks] Or horid grots where comfortable light Hates to dispence its luster, yet my search Should find thee out, reduce thee to this brest Once[124] thy lovd Paradice. Pray, madam, pray: From those faire eyes one penetentiall teare Would force whole legions of heavens brightest Sa[ints] If they have power to intercede for earth To beg for mercy for you.

_Lady_. These are toyes Forgd to delude mortality: let me die And afterwards my uncontroled Ghost Shall visitt you. I only goe and aske How my _Belisia_ does enioy her health Since she exchangd her native ayre of earth For those dull regions. If I find the clime Does to our constitutions promise life, Ile come to you and in those happy shades Will live in peace eternally.

[[125]_Cla_. Alas, I feare shees Irrecoverable. Twas Ill don to affright her thus.

_Mag_. Expect the best: The Gentleman will perswade her.

_Tho_. O, dispaire, Grimme homicide of soules, how thou involvst More haplesse creatures in distracted Ills Ore [w]home thou triumpst; but Ile fright thee hence: No feind shall add a trophy to thy acts For victory over her.] Deare madam, heare me: You had a noble husband, while he livd; And I beleive That no perswasion cold have forcd you yeild To vitiation of his honord bed, Not with a prince. And will you give your soule, Which heaven in its creation had designd A bride to faire eternity of blisse, By vild procurement of hells bawd, despaire, To prostitution of unnaturall death And then of woes erelasting which admit Noe diminution? Can you heare this, Madam, And does the flintie substance of your heart Not thaw, like to a hill of _Russian_ Ice When fires applid to't? Yes, your eyes demonstrate It[126] melts already.

_Cla_. Deare Mother, please you walke Into your Chamber: here the wind is cold And may disease your weaknes.

_Mag_. Here is your vayle, and't please your ladiship.

_Lady_. Let me alone, you trouble me; I feele A soddaine change; each organ of my soule Suffers a strong vicissitude; and, though I do detest a voluntary death, My Conscience tells me that it is most iust That the cursd author of such impious ills Ought not to live.

_Tho_. O thinke not soe: those words Retaine affinity with that passion I hop'd youd left. The greatest of your Sinns Mercy will smile at, when you doe implore Its unconsuming grace: the dullest cloud Will, when you pray, be active as the ayre In opening to receive that breath to heaven Thats spent to purge your ills. Why, you may live To make a faire lustration for your faults And die a happie Convert.

_[Ho]llow within_: Follow, follow, follow! that way he went.

_Enter Young Marlowe, Alexander, [Consta]ble and [office]rs_.

_Y. M_. Hell, I will flie no farther; since my hand Is guilt in murder it shall sacrifice Some of my apprehenders.

_Tho_. Whats the matter? Deare Sir, what ayles you?

_Lady_. O my Sonne! I feare.

_Alex_. Stand back, goe to; what meanes this rudenes. I say goe to, keepe back.

_Con_. Sir, we must enter: here he is. I charge you Asist us to lay hold on him.

_Lady_. Why, how now, Fellowes? what makes you presse in here thus rudely? Whom do you follow?

_Con_. Madam, Ime sorry my authority Enforces me to doe it: your sonn iust now Has slaine one Mr. _Thurstone_, and the law Commaunds us apprehend him.

_Y. M_. Here take my sword: When I but doe waigh the iustnes of the cause For which I suffer, though I could escape, My Conscience would forbid me. Come, Ile goe Whither you please.

_Lady_. Stay, officers; all accessaries are As liable to punishment for murder As those who act it. I confesse twas I Enforcd my son to slay that gentleman. Your warrant extends to take me with him.

_Tho_. Alas, beleive her not; greife for her sonne Has made her franticke.

_Lady_. By heaven tis truth! If you refuse to execute your office I shall confesse my act unto the Judg And soe condemne you of partiality. My Sonn knowes this is truth.

_Y. M_. I must acknowledge Mr. _Alexander_ oft did instigate me To kill him.

_Con_. Sir, you must clere your selfe of this.

_Alex_. Who? I? Goe, take the babe from its Mothers teat and taxe him with this crime. I accessary to a murder! goe to.

_Con_. Why, and goe to, sir, and avoid resistance; You must goe. Will your ladiship walke with us?

_Lady_. Yes, most willingly. I doe this most abhorrid life despise Since tis to iustice a iust sacrifice.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 2.)

_A Table: Enter Judge,[127] Sir Geffery, Crackbie, Suckett, and Bunch_.

_Sir Hu_. I doe admire this accident: since I have sat Judge I have not knowne any such tryall.

_Sir Gef_. Tis certaine, sir; but looke you, sir, Ile tell you. You do perceive me sir: as Ime a gentleman I lov'd the lady; but she, out of her pride, I thinke, or else I were to b[lame] to say soe, scornd me. Marke you that, sir? understand you that?

_Sir Hu_. You question my understanding very much, good Sir _Geffe[rey]_. But pray you, sir, being here more conversant then I, c[ould] you informe me how this quarrell grew twixt her [and Mr.] _Thurston_?

_Sir Gef_. Yes, yes, I can;--but let me see, I have almost forgott; to say truth, I never heard the reason, but as the wisest guess--hum, hum--he should have had her daughter.

_Crac_. I might have had her my self, you know, uncle.

_Sir Gef_. Peace, Nephew, peace, give Justice leave to speake.--As I related, the reason I related, Sir, was as I told you.

_Sir Hu_. You told me nothing yet, Sir _Geffery_.

_Sir Gef_. Noe? did I not say he should have had her daughter?

_Sir Hu_. You did; but what does that conduce to their dissention?

_Sir Gef_. Oh sir, the originall efficient cause,--you understand me? for suspition whispers he had given her a foule blow and would have left her.

_Crac_. Nay, by my birthright, uncle, the child was not his alone, for I dare sweare I had a hand at least in it. I did endevor fort, did I not, Captaine?

_Suc_. Yes, there are others to as well as you; yes, she has struck her top sayle to a man of warr; she has bin boarded, sir, I can assure you.

_Sir Hu_. What impudent slaves are these!--But are you sure the gentlewoman is with child?

_Sir Gef_. Sure? doe you question it, Sir? _Bunch_, be ready, _Bunch_, to write their confessions quickly.

_Bunch_. They are not come yet to confession, sir.

_Sir Gef_. Noe matter for that, _Bunch_; with the Judges leave weele here their confession before they come, that we may know the better to state the cause when they doe come. Ist not best, thinke you?

_Sir Hu_. Who shall speake for them, thinke you?

_Sir Gef_. No matter whether any man speake nor noe: we know he killed the man, and she comanded him, ergo they are guilty; ergoe that must be their confession, scilicet that they are guilty. Write this, _Bunch_, and then we will perpend, as law and Judgment guides us, whether we will save or condemne. How say you, sir?

_Crac_. Oh well don, uncle! I knew[128] he would prove what he said, otherwise I would have venturd a sillogisme in Baraly[p]ton to have made it evident.

[_Suc_.[129] But with your favour, gentlemen; suppose he did unlive _Thurston_ in faire duell?

_Sir Hu_. No duell can be fayre, cause tis against The kingdomes lawes.

_Suc_. The kingdomes lawes! how shall A Gent[leman] that has a blemish cast Upon his life, faire reputac[i]on, Have satisfaction then? allow no duells! Hel! a man of armes had better live in woods And combate wolves then among such milke sops. The kingdomes lawes!

_Crac_. Patience, good Captaine; we will have duells lawful.

_Suc_. Tis fit they should, being legitimacy managd, sir.]

_Enter Constable and Prisoners_.

_Sir Gef_. O, soe; are you come? weele tickle you ifaith.

_Con_. Soe please you, heare are the prisoners.

_Sir Hu_. Tis well, we have waited them. Madam, I should have bin more fortunate to have scene you In any place but this; and here, In any other cause then this, I would use you As the precedent carridge of your life Has merited, but cannot: y'are a prisoner Convict of murder, a most hideous crime Gainst law and nature.

_Sir Gef_. Yes, marry is it, and that she shall find ere we have don. _Bunch_, read their indictments, _Bunch_. She had as good have married me, I warrant her.

_Sir Hu_. Good Sir _Geffrey_, silence a while. Who is the accuser?

_Con_. Here.

_Sir Hu_. What have you, freind, to object against this lady?

_Con_. That she confesd it was by her procurement and comaunde her sonn murderd young _Thurston_.

_Lady_. Please you, sir, that a poore prisoner may entreate one favour.

_Sir Gef_. Yes, you shall have favour!

_Sir Hu_. Any thing mercy can graunt unpreiudiciall to Iustice.

_Lady_. Then this: You shall not need to produce witnesses Or charge a Iury to designe me guilty Of _Thurstons_ murder. I confess it to you, Twas only I that slew him.

_Sir Gef_. Marke that, Sir: shee that slew him! do you hear?

_Sir Hu_. Pray disturbe her not.--How comes it then, Madam, to be affirmd your Sonn did kill him?

_Sir Gef_. I, lets heare that, how it comes: well remembred, you did even speake before me.

_Crac_. O how learnedly could I speake now, might I have licence!

_Lady_. Pray, Sir, Let me not be oppresd with noyse; my cause Beares not so slender waight. For my owne life, So many reasons forfeit it to death That 'twere a Sinn, had I a will to live, To plead to save it; but for this my sonn I do beseech a hearing.

_Sir Hu_. Speake freely, lady.

_Lady_. Thus then: Suppose the wrested rigor of your lawes Uniustly sentenc'd any here to death, And you enforce on some unwilling man The present execution of your act, You will not after cause the instrument Of your decree, as guilty of his blood, To suffer as a Homicide: how then Can your impartiall Judgment Censure my sonn for this which was my fact? _Thurston_ the malice of my will wishd dead: My instigation and severe comaund Compeld him to atcheiv't, and you will graunt Noe princes lawes retaine more active force To ingage a subiect to performe their hests Then natures does astring a dewtious child To obey his parent.

_Sir Gef_. Pish, all this is nothing: there is a flat statute against it,--let me see,--in Anno vigessimo tricessimo, Henerio octavo be it enacted,--what followes, _Bunch_?

_Sir Hu_. Nay, good Sir, peace-- Madam, these are but wild evasions For times protraction; for your paritie, It cannot hold; since Nature does enforce Noe child to obey his parent in an act That is not good and iust.

_Lady_. Why, this seemd both To his obedience; but relinquish that And come to Conscience: does it not comaund In its strict Canons to exact no more Then blood for blood, unlesse you doe extort Worse then an usurer. For _Thurstons_ life I offer myne, which if it be to meane To appease your Justice, let it satisfie Your mercie. Spare my Sonn and I shall goe As willingly to death as to my rest After a painfull child birthe. Looke on him! How fitt the subiect is to invite your pittie! What Tyrant hand would cut this Cedar up Ere its full groath (at which it stately head Would give a shade to heaven), or pluck this Rose As yet scarce blossomd?

_Sir Gef_. Hum, what says _Bunch_?

_Lady_. Mercy wilbe proud T'infold him gently in her Ivory armes, And, as she walkes along with him, each word He speakes sheele greedily catch at with a kisse From his soft lipps such as the amorous Fawnes Enforce on the light Satyrs. Let[130] me dy Who, like the palme, when consious that tis void Of fruite and moysture, prostratly doe begg A Charitable headsman.

_Sir Hu_. So bad a cause Deserves not to be pleaded thus. Deere madam, Greife overwhelmes me for you, that your guilt Has damp'd the eyes of mercy and undone All intercession. Please you desist: We must proceed to th'examination Of the other prisoners.-- Sir _Geffrey_, we shall need your grave assistance: Sir _Geffrey_, be more attentive.

_Sir Gef_. Tis very necessary. I wilbe sworne she did bewitch me; I thinke I was almost asleepe. But now to yee, I faith; come on, what can you say that Judgment shall not passe against you?

_Tho_. Sir, you are the Judge here?

_Sir Hu_. Yes, sir, why question you my power?

_Tho_. Noe, scarlett man, I question thy witt, At least thy Humanity and the Conscience That dares imagine to destroy this wealth, To hang this matchless diamond in the eare Of _Ethiope_ Death. Send him to file thy house, Strike with his dart thy Children and thy selfe, Gray bearded miscreant, whose best acts compard With _Thurstons_ murder (cause this lady did [it]) Are full iniquity.

[_Suc_.[131] The man speaks home and boldly.]

_Sir Hu_. Sir, you are fitter for a Jayle, a Bedlam, Then to stand free before us. What? art thou mad, man?

_Sir Gef_. Yes, what are you, Sir. I aske to, though I know y[ou well] enough. What are you?

_Tho_. I am one, To expresse my selfe in my true character, Soe full of civill reason and iust truth That to denie my owne peculiar act I should esteeme as base and black a sinne As _Scythians_[132] doe adultery: twas I That gave this lady councell to invade That _Thurstons_ life, and out of cowardise, Feareing my person, set this bold young man To be his murderer. Ime the principall, The very source from whence this brooke of bloode Fetches its spring.

_Sir Hu_. Still more of the conspiracy! Sir, what say You to these designements?

_Suc_. Say, sir, you slew the man in equall duell: Twill bring you off, I warrant you.

_Sir Gef_. Answere, you youth of valour, you that dare See men of credit bleede. Ha!

_Y. M_. Sir, I am to dy, and should I now speake false Twould be a maine addicon to the ill What I alone comitted: for this man, Howsoere his fury does transport his tongue, Hees guiltlesse on't: I must confesse my Mother Did, for some private wrong which he had don, Wish me to call him to account; but this Steward did with all violence sollicit That I should slay him.

_Alex_. Whoe? I? goe to; ist come to this?

_Sir Hu_. Sir, you must answer this.

_Sir Gef_. Marke how the mischeife lookes.

_Alex_. I doe defie thy mallice, thou falce Judge. Goe to; my [Mrs.] I appeal to, she that knowes my vertue and Integrity.

_Sir Hu_. Away with him toth Jayle: a publique Sessions may [ere] long from thence deliver him to the gallowes.

_Const_. Come, Sir. [_Exeunt Const, and Alex_.

_Sir Hu_. Madam, for you and for your Sonn, your crimes Being soe manifest, I wish you would Prepare your selves for heaven. Meantime you must remaine Saffe prissoners untill the Judges sitt, Who best may give a sentence on your fact.

_Tho_. And what for me?

_Sir Gef_. I, what for him, Mr Justice?

_Sir Hu_. Sure your words Rather proceed from some distraction Then from similitude of truth. You may Begon, we do quitt you.

_Tho_. And Ile quit my selfe Of what you will not, [of] my hated life. You have condemnd a lady who may claime As many slaves to wait on her in death As the most superstitious _Indian_ prince (That carries servants to attend ith grave) Can by's prerogative; nor shall she want Waiters, while you and I, my reverend Judg, Are within reach of one another. [_Offers att the Record_.

_Suc_. Death, Sir! Dare you presume to draw before us men Of stout performance?

_Sir Gef_. You sir, weele have you hangd to, sir, with the Steward.

_Sir Hu_. We doe forgive him; twas his passion. Tis manly to forbeare infirmities In noble soules. Away with the delinquents, officers![133]

_Sir Gef_.[134] I charge you looke to them: there is some rescue intended, I warrant you.

_Con_. Sir, yonder are some six or seaven without, Attird like Masquers, that will not be denied Admittance.

_Sir Hu_. What are they?

_Con_. [Faith[135]] we know not, Nor will they tell us, only this they say: Heareing of the lady _Marlowe's_ condemnation, They are come With shew of death to make her more prepard fort.

_Sir Hu_. We will deny none of her freinds to see her; They can intend noe rescue.

_Con_. Noe, my life ont, sir: they come unarm'd.

_Sir Hu_. Be still; letts see this misterie.

_Florish, Horrid Musike. Enter Death, Gri., and Furies_.

_Gri_. If in charnell houses, Caves, Horrid grots and mossie graves, Where the mandraks hideous howles Welcome bodies voide of soules, My power extends, why may not I Hugg those who are condemd to dy? Grimme _Dispaire_, arise and bring _Horror_ with thee and the king Of our dull regions; bid the rest Of your Society be addrest, As they feare the frowne of chaunce, To grace this presense with a daunce.

_Recorders. Enter Hymen and the Lovers_.

_Tim_. _Death_, avaunt! thou hast no power; This is _Hymens_ happie hower. Away to the dark shades! hence! And, grim _Dispaire_, let _Innocence_ Triumph, and bring eternall peace To all your soules and Joys increase. Smile, smile, sweet ayre, on us that come To sing _Deaths_ Epicedium. Extract from roses gentlest winds, Such odors as young _Hymen_ finds At sweet _Arabian_ nuptialls; let The youthfull graces here beget Soe smooth a peace that every breath May blesse this marriage of _Death_. Feare nothing, lady, whose bright eye Sing'd _Deaths_ wings as he flew by: Wee therefore, trust me, only come To sing _Deaths_ Epicedium. [_discover_,

_Tim_. Stay, stay, by your leave Mr. Justice.-- Madam,[136] your servant _Timothy_ brings you newes You must not dy. Know you this Gentleman?

_Sir Gef_. Now, on my knighthood, Mr. _Thurston_.

_Lady_. Amazement leave me: is he living?

_Sir Hu_. Are we deluded?

_Tim_. So it appeares, Sir: the gent[leman] never had hurt; hees here, and let him speake for himselfe and this gentlewoman his wife.

_Lady_. Who? _Clariana_?

_Thu_. With your leave, reverend father.--To you, Madam, Whome I must now call Mother, first your pardon That the conceivd report of my faind death Has brought you to this triall: next For this your daughter and your sonn, whose virtues Redeemd [me] from the death your rage had thought I should have suffred, he agreeing with me Consented to appeach himselfe of that He nere intended, and procurd this man As his accuser of my murder, which Was but contrivd to let you see the error Of your sterne malice; that, acquainted with The foulenesse of the fact, by the effect You might repent it and bestow your blessing On us your Suppliant Children.

_Cla_. Which we beg With hearty sorrow, if we have transgresd Our duty to you.

_Sir Hu_. I am happie to see so blesd a period.

_Sir Gef_. Ha, ha, widdow, are you come of thus, widdow? You may thanke me: I hope youle have me now, widdow.

_Lady_. This soddaine comfort, Had I not yet a relique left of greife, Would like a violent torrent overbeare The banks of my mortallity. Oh, _Thurston_, Whom I respect with a more sacred love Then was my former; take my blessing with her And all the wishes that a ioyfull mother Can to a child devote: had my _Belisia_ And her deare _Bonvill_ livd, this happy day Should have beheld a double wedding.

[_Suc_.[137] Death, must he have her then?]

_Sir Hu_. Spoake like a mother.

_Tho_. Madam, The surplusage of love that's in my breast Must needs have vent in gratulation Of your full ioyes. Would you mind your promise, And make me fortunate in your love!

_Lady_. Sir, I have vowd, Since by my meanes my daughter and her love Perishd unhappily, to seclude my selfe From mans Society.

[_Bonvil, Belisia, and Grimes discover_.

_Tho_. Weele cancell That obligation quickly.--Lady, I now Will urge your promise: twas a plot betwixt us To give them out for drownd, least your pursuite Should have impeachd their marriage, which is now Most iustly consummate; and[138] only I Remaine at your devotion for a wife.

_Lady_. Take her, And with me a repentance as profound As Anchorites for their sin pay.

_Sir Hu_. Madam, how blest am I To see you thus past hope recovered, My mirth at your faire wedding shall demonstrate.

_Sir Gef_. I will daunce too, that[s] certain, though I breake my legs or get the tissick.

[_Suc_.[139] Doe you know me, Sir?

_Bon_. Yes, very well, sir.

_Suc_. You are married, sir.

_Bon_. I, what of that?

_Suc_. Nothing, but send you Joy, sir?]

_Lady_. But where's my Steward? hees not hangd I hope: This mirth admits no Tragedy.

_Gri_. Behold the figure.

_Alex_. I crave forgivenesse.

_Lady_. Goe to, you have it.

_Alex_. Thanke you, madam,--I, I will goe to and goe to, and there be ere a wench to be got for love or money, rath[er] then plot murder: tis the sweeter sinn of [the two]; besides, theres noe danger of ones cragg; [the] worst is but stand in one sheet for ly[ing] in two: and therefore goe to and goe to, I [say] and I sayt agen.

_Sir Gef_. _Bunch_ take my cloake, _Bunch_; it shal [not] be sed, so many weddings and nere a Da[nce]: for soe many good turnes the hangman ha done you, theres one for all, hey!

_Tho_. Well said, Sir _Geffrey_.

_Sir Gef_. Hey, when I was young! but come, we loose [time]: every one his lasse, and stricke up Musick!

_Daunce_.

_Lady_. Now, gentlemen, my thanks to all, and since [I]t is my good hap to escape these ills, Goe in with me and celebrate this feast With choyse solemnitie; where our discourse Shall merrily forgett these harmes, and prove Theres no Arraingment like to that of love.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

FINIS.

_This Play, call'd the Lady Moth[er] (the Reformacons observ'd) may be acted. October the xvth_, 1635.

WILL. BLAGRAVE, _Dept. to the [Master] of the Revell[s]_.

INTRODUCTION TO THE TRAGEDY OF SIR JOHN VAN OLDEN BARNAVELT.

I have never met anywhere with the slightest allusion to this fine historical play, now for the first time printed from a MS.[140] in the British Museum (Add. MS. 18,653). It is curious that it should have been left to the present editor to call attention to a piece of such extraordinary interest; for I have no hesitation in predicting that Barnavelt's Tragedy, for its splendid command of fiery dramatic rhetoric, will rank among the masterpieces of English dramatic literature.

On a first rapid inspection I assumed, with most uncritical recklessness, that Chapman was the author. There are not wanting points of general resemblance between Chapman's Byron and the imperious, unbending spirit of the great Advocate as he is here represented; but in diction and versification, the present tragedy is wholly different from any work of Chapman's. When I came to transcribe the piece, I soon became convinced that it was to a great extent the production of Fletcher. There can, I think, be no reasonable doubt about the authorship of such lines as the following:--

"_Barnavelt_. My noble Lords, what is't appeares upon me So ougly strange you start and fly my companie? What plague sore have ye spide, what taynt in honour, What ill howre in my life so cleere deserving That rancks in this below your fellowships? For which of all my cares, of all my watches, My services (too many and too mightie To find rewards) am I thus recompenced, Not lookd on, not saluted, left forgotten Like one that came to petition to your honours-- Over the shoulder slighted?

_Bredero_. Mounsieur _Barnavelt_, I am sorry that a man of your great wisdom And those rare parts that make ye lov'd and honourd, In every Princes Court highly esteemd of, Should loose so much in point of good and vertue Now in the time you ought to fix your faith fast, The credit of your age, carelessly loose it,-- dare not say ambitiously,--that your best friends And those that ever thought on your example Dare not with comon safetie now salute ye" (iii. 1).

Such a verse as,--

"In every Princes Court highly esteemd of,"

or,--

"Now in the time you ought to fix your faith fast,"

can belong only to Fletcher. The swelling, accumulative character of the eloquence is another proof; for Fletcher's effects are gained not by a few sharp strokes, but by constant iteration, each succeeding line strengthening the preceding until at last we are fronted by a column of very formidable strength. Let us take another extract from the same scene:--

"_Barnavelt_. When I am a Sychophant And a base gleaner from an others favour, As all you are that halt upon his crutches,-- Shame take that smoothness and that sleeke subjection! I am myself, as great in good as he is, As much a master of my Countries fortunes, And one to whom (since I am forc'd to speak it, Since mine own tongue must be my Advocate) This blinded State that plaies at boa-peep with us, This wanton State that's weary of hir lovers And cryes out 'Give me younger still and fresher'! Is bound and so far bound: I found hir naked, Floung out a dores and starvd, no friends to pitty hir, The marks of all hir miseries upon hir, An orphan State that no eye smild upon: And then how carefully I undertooke hir, How tenderly and lovingly I noursd hir! But now she is fatt and faire againe and I foold, A new love in hir armes, my doatings scornd at. And I must sue to him! be witnes, heaven, If this poore life were forfeyt to his mercy, At such a rate I hold a scornd subjection I would not give a penney to redeeme it. I have liv'd ever free, onely depended Upon the honestie of my faire Actions, Nor am I now to studdy how to die soe."

The whole scene is singularly fine and impressive; it shows us Fletcher at his highest.

But in other passages we find a second hand at work. In the second scene of the third act there is far less exuberance of language and a different style of versification, as may be seen in the following lines:--

"_Orange_. My grave Lords, That it hath byn my happines to take in, And with so little blood, so many Townes That were falne off, is a large recompence For all my travell; and I would advise That (since all now sing the sweet tunes of Concord, No Sword unsheathd, the meanes to hurt cut off And all their stings pluckd out that would have usd them Against the publique peace) we should end here And not with labour search for that which will Afflict us when 'tis found. Something I know That I could wish I nere had understood, Which yet if I should speake, as the respect And duty that I owe my Country bids me, It wilbe thought 'tis rather privat spleene Then pious zeale. But that is not the hazard Which I would shun: I rather feare the men We must offend in this, being great, rich, wise, Sided with strong friends, trusted with the guard Of places most important, will bring forth Rather new births of tumult, should they be Calld to their Triall, then appease disorder In their just punishment; and in doing Justice On three or four that are delinquents, loose So many thousand inocents that stand firme And faithfull patriots. Let us leave them therefore To the scourge of their owne consciences: perhaps Th'assurance that they are yet undiscoverd, Because not cyted to their answeare, will So work with them hereafter to doe well That we shall joy we sought no farther in it."

Here we have vigorous writing, staid and grave and unimpassioned, and a more regular metre. In determining questions of authorship I have so often found myself (and others, too) at fault, that I shrink from adopting the dictatorial tone assumed in these matters by learned Germans and a few English scholars. But I think in the present instance we may speak with tolerable certainty. Before my mind had been made up, my good friend, Mr. Fleay, pronounced strongly in favour of Massinger. He is, I think, right; in fact, it is beyond the shadow of a doubt that Massinger wrote the speech quoted above. In all Massinger's work there is admirable ease and dignity; if his words are seldom bathed in tears or steeped in fire, yet he never writes beneath his subject. He had a rare command of an excellent work-a-day dramatic style, clear, vigorous, free from conceit and affectation. But he is apt to grow didactic, and tax the reader's patience; and there is often a want of coherence in his sentences, which amble down the page in a series of loosely-linked clauses. I will not examine scene by scene in detail; for I must frankly confess that I feel myself sometimes at a loss to determine whether a particular passage is by Fletcher or Massinger. Most of the impassioned parts belong, I think, to the former. I would credit Massinger with the admirably conducted trial-scene in the fourth act; but the concluding scene of the play, where Barnavelt is led to execution, I would ascribe, without hesitation, to Fletcher. In the scene (v. 1) where the French ambassador pleads for Barnavelt we recognise Massinger's accustomed temperance and dignity. To the graver writer, too, we must set down Leydenberg's solemn and pathetic soliloquy (iii. 6), when by a voluntary death he is seeking to make amends for his inconstancy and escape from the toils of his persecutors.

There is no difficulty in fixing the date of the present play. Barneveld was executed on May 13, 1619, and the play must have been written immediately afterwards, when all Christendom was ringing with the news of the execution. In the third scene of the first act there is a marginal note signed "G.B." The initials are unquestionably those of Sir George Buc, Master of the Revels from 1610 to 1622.[141] On comparing the note with an autograph letter[142] of Sir George's I find the hand-writing to correspond exactly. The date, therefore, cannot be later than 1622, but the probability is that the play was produced at Michaelmas, 1619.

In our own day the great Advocate's fame, which had been allowed to fall into neglect, has been revived with splendour by Mr. Motley, whose "Life of John of Barneveld" is a monument _aere perennius_ of loving labour, masterful grasp, and rare eloquence. Had the dramatists been in possession of a tithe of the facts brought to light from mouldering state documents by the historian, they would have regarded Barneveld's faults with a milder eye, and shown more unqualified praise for his great and noble qualities. But they are to be commended in that they saw partially through the mists of popular error and prejudice; that they refused to accept a caricature portrait, and proclaimed in unmistakable accents the nobility of the fallen Advocate. Perhaps it is not so strange that this tragedy dropped from sight. Its representation certainly could not have been pleasing to King James; for that murderous, slobbering, detestable villain had been untiring in his efforts to bring about Barneveld's ruin.

Throughout the play there are marks of close political observation. To discover the materials from which the playwrights worked up their solid and elaborate tragedy would require a more extensive investigation than I care to undertake. An account of Barneveld's trial, defence, and execution may be found in the following tracts:--

([Greek: alpha]) "Barnavel's Apologie, or Holland's Mysteria: with marginall Castigations, 1618." The Apology, originally written in Dutch, had been translated into Latin, and thence into English. The Castigations, by "Robert Houlderus, Minister of the Word of God," are remarkable, even in the annals of theological controversy, for gross blackguardism. After indulging in the most loathsome displays of foul brutality, this "Minister of the Word of God" ends with the cheerful prayer,--"That they whom Thou hast predestinated to salvation may alwayes have the upper hand and triumph in the certainty of their salvation: but they whom Thou has created unto confusion, and as vessels of Thy just wrath, may tumble and be thrust headlong thither whereto from all eternitie Thou didst predestinate them, even before they had done any good or evil."

([Greek: beta]) "Newes out of Holland: concerning Barnavelt and his fellow-Prisoners, their Conspiracy against their Native Country with the enemies thereof: The Oration and Propositions made in their behalfe unto the Generall States of the United Provinces at the Hage, by the Ambassadours of the French King," &c., 1619.

([Greek: gamma]) "The Arraignment of John Van Olden Barnavelt, late Advocate of Holland and West Freisland. Containing the articles alleadged against him and the reasons of his execution," &c., 1619.

* * * * *

"This magnificent play is mainly the production of Fletcher and Massinger: it must have been written between May, 1619, and May, 1622, for the King's company acting at Blackfriars. T[homas] Hol[combe] acted a woman's part in it: so did G. Lowin, perhaps a son of John Lowin, unless indeed G. is a miswriting for J., as sometimes happens. It is singular that one has no knowledge whatever of Thomas Holcombe, except as an actor in Fletcher's plays: although so many of the lists of the king's men of that date have come down to us. Mr. Gough who took the part of Leidenberg, is Robert Gough, not Alexander: the latter acted only in Charles I.'s time. Another actor, Michael, is unknown: probably a super."--F.G. FLEAY.

Since the above paragraph was written, I have found in the MS. the names of three more actors, Jo[hn] Rice, Bir[ch], and T[homas] Po[llard]. The following note, for which I am indebted to Mr. Fleay, will be read with interest:--"It is noticeable that a play called the Jeweller of Amsterdam or the Hague, by John Fletcher, Nathaniel Field, and Phillip Massinger, was entered on the Stationers' Books 8th April, 1654, but not printed. This play must have been written between 1617 and 1619, while Field was connected with the King's company, and undoubtedly referred to the murder of John Van Wely, the Jeweller of Amsterdam, by John of Paris, the confidential groom of Prince Maurice, in 1619. It is _primâ facie_ likely that the same authors would be employed on both plays. Field, Daborne, Dekker and Fletcher are the only authors known to have written in conjunction with Massinger; and Dekker and Daborne are out of the question for that company at that date. We are now enabled to fix the date of the 'Fatal Dowry,' by Field and Massinger, as c. 1618."

THE TRAGEDY OF SIR JOHN VAN OLDEN BARNAVELT.

Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt.

_Actus Primus_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck, and Grotius_.

_Bar_. The Prince of _Orange_ now, all names are lost els! That hees alone the Father of his Cuntrie! Said you not so?

_Leid_. I speake the peoples Language.

_Bar_. That to his arme and sword the Provinces owe Their flourishing peace? that hees the armyes soule By which it moves to victorie?

_Mod_. So 'tis said, Sir.

_Leid_. Nay, more; that without him dispaire and ruyn Had ceazd on all and buried quick our safeties.

_Gro_. That had not he in act betterd our counsailes And in his execution set them off, All we designd had ben but as a tale Forgot as soone as told.

_Leid_. And with such zeale This is deliverd that the Prince beleeves it; For Greatnes, in her owne worth confident, Doth never waigh but with a covetous hand His lightest meritts, and who add to the scale Seldom offend.

_Gro_. 'Tis this that swells his pride Beyond those lymitts his late modestie Ever observd. This makes him count the Soldier As his owne creature, and to arrogate All prosperous proceedings to himself; Detracts from you and all men, you scarce holding The second place.

_Bar_. When I gave him the first: I robd myself, for it was justly mine. The labourinthes of pollicie I have trod To find the clew of safetie, for my Cuntrie Requird a head more knowing and a courage As bold as his,--though I must say 'tis great. His stile of Excellencie was my guift; Money, the strength and fortune of the war, The help of _England_ and the aide of _Fraance_, I only can call mine: and shall I then, Now in the sun-set of my daie of honour, When I should passe with glory to my rest And raise my Monument from my Cuntries praises, Sitt downe and with a boorish patience suffer The harvest that I labourd for to be Anothers spoile? the peoples thancks and praises, Which should make faire way for me to my grave, To have another object? the choice fruites Of my deepe projects grace anothers Banquet? No; this ungratefull Cuntry, this base people, Most base to my deserts, shall first with horrour Know he that could defeat the _Spanish_ counsailes And countermyne their dark works, he that made The State what 'tis, will change it once againe Ere fall with such dishonour.

_Mod_. Be advisd, Sir; I love you as a friend, and as a wise man Have ever honourd you: be as you were then, And I am still the same. Had I not heard Theis last distemperd words, I would have sworne That in the making up of _Barnavelt_ Reason had only wrought, passion no hand in't. But now I find you are lesse then a man, Lesse then a common man, and end that race You have so long run strongly like a child, For such a one old age or honours surfeyts Againe have made you.

_Bar_. This to me?

_Mod_. To you, Sir: For is't not boyish folly (youthfull heat I cannot call it) to spume downe what all His life hath labourd for? Shall _Barnavelt_ That now should studie how to die, propound New waies to get a name? or keep a being A month or two to ruyn whatsoever The good succes of forty yeeres employment In the most serious affaires of State Have raisd up to his memory? And for what? Glory, the popular applause,--fine purchase For a gray beard to deale in!

_Gro_. You offend him.

_Mod_. 'Tis better then to flatter him as you doe. Be but yourself againe and then consider What alteration in the State can be By which you shall not loose. Should you bring in (As heaven avert the purpose and the thought Of such a mischief) the old Tirrany That _Spaine_ hath practisd, do you thinck you should be Or greater then you are or more secure From danger? Would you change the goverment, Make it a Monarchie? Suppose this don And any man you favourd most set up, Shall your authoritie by him encrease? Be not so foolishly seducd; for what Can hope propose to you in any change Which ev'n now you posses not?

_Bar_. Doe not measure My ends by yours.

_Mod_. I know not what you ayme at. For thirtie yeeres (onely the name of king You have not had, and yet your absolute powre Hath ben as ample) who hath ben employd In office, goverment, or embassie, Who raisd to wealth or honour that was not Brought in by your allowaunce? Who hath held His place without your lycence? Your estate is Beyond a privat mans: your Brothers, Sonnes, Frendes, Famylies, made rich in trust and honours: Nay, this grave _Maurice_, this now Prince of _Orange_, Whose popularitie you weakely envy, Was still by you commaunded: for when did he Enter the feild but 'twas by your allowaunce? What service undertake which you approv'd not? What victory was won in which you shard not? What action of his renownd in which Your counsaile was forgotten? Yf all this then Suffice not your ambition but you must Extend it further, I am sorry that You give me cause to feare that when you move next You move to your destruction.

_Bar_. Yf I fall I shall not be alone, for in my ruyns My Enemies shall find their Sepulchers. _Modes-bargen_, though in place you are my equall, The fire of honour, which is dead in you, Burnes hotly in me, and I will preserve Each glory I have got, with as much care As I acheivd it. Read but ore the Stories Of men most fam'd for courage or for counsaile. And you shall find that the desire of glory (That last infirmity of noble minds) Was the last frailty wise men ere putt of: Be they my presidents.

_Gro_. 'Tis like yourself, Like _Barnavelt_, and in that all is spoken.

_Leid_. I can do something in the State of _Utrecht_, And you shall find the place of Secretarie, Which you conferd upon me there, shall be, When you employ me, usefull.

_Gro_. All I am You know you may commaund: Ile nere enquire What 'tis you goe about, but trust your counsailes As the Auncients did their Oracles.

_Mod_. Though I speak Not as a flatterer, but a friend, propound What may not prejudice the State, and I Will goe as far as any.

_Enter 2 Captaines_.

_Bar_. To all my service:[143] Ere long you shall know more.--What are theis?

_Leid_. Captaines That raild upon the Comissary.

_Bar_. I remember.

1 _Cap_. Why, you dare charge a foe i'the head of his troope, And shake you to deliver a petition To a statesman and a frend?

2 _Cap_. I need not seek him, He has found me; and, as I am a soldier, His walking towards me is more terrible Then any enemies march I ever mett with.

1 _Cap_. We must stand to it.

_Bar_. You, Sir, you?

2 _Cap_. My Lord.

_Bar_. As I use this I waigh you: you are he That when your Company was viewd and checkd For your dead paies,[144] stood on your termes of honour, Cryde out "I am a Gentleman, a Commaunder, And shall I be curbd by my lords the States," (For thus you said in scorne) "that are but Merchants, Lawyers, Apothecaries, and Physitians, Perhaps of worser ranck"? But you shall know, Sir, They are not such, but Potentates and Princes From whom you take pay.

1 _Cap_. This indeed is stately: Statesmen, d'you call 'em?

2 _Cap_. I beseech your Lordship: 'Twas wine and anger.

_Bar_. No, Sir; want of dutie: But I will make that tongue give him the lye That said soe, drunck or sober; take my word for't. Your Compaine is cast: you had best complaine To your Great Generall, and see if he Can of himself maintaine you,--Come, _Modes-bargen_.

[_Exeunt Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, and Grotius_,

_Leid_. I am sorry for you, Captaine, but take comfort: I love a Soldier, and all I can doe To make you what you were, shall labour for you. And so, good morrow, Gentlemen. [_Exit_.

1 _Cap_. Yet theres hope; For you have one friend left.

2 _Cap_. You are deceivd, Sir, And doe not know his nature that gave promise Of his assistance.

1 _Cap_. Who is't?

2 _Cap_. _Leidenberck_. One of the Lords, the States, and of great powre too; I would he were as honest. This is he That never did man good, and yet no Suitor Ever departed discontented from him. Hee'll promise any thing: I have seene him talke At the Church dore with his hat of to a Begger Almost an houre togeather, yet when he left him He gave him not a doyt. He do's profes To all an outward pitty, but within The devills more tender: the great plague upon him! Why thinck I of him? he's no part of that Must make my peace.

1 _Cap_. Why, what course will you take then?

2 _Cap_. A Bribe to _Barnavelts_ wiffe, or a kind wench For my yong lord his Son, when he has drunck hard. There's no way els to doo't.

1 _Cap_. I have gold good store You shall not want that; and if I had thought on't When I left _London_, I had fitted you For a convenient Pagan.

2 _Cap_. Why, is there Such store they can be spard?

1 _Cap_.[145] ... ... ...

2 _Cap_. I thanck you, Sir.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

_Enter[146] Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck, Grotius, and Hogebeets_.

_Bar_. The States are sitting: all that I can doe Ile say in little; and in me theis Lords Promise as much. I am of your belief In every point you hold touching religion, And openly I will profes myself Of the _Arminian_ sect.

_Gro_. You honour it.

_Hog_.[147] And all our praires and service.

_Bar_. Reverend man Your loves I am ambitious of. Already 'Tis knowne I favour you, and that hath drawne Libells against me; but the stinglesse hate Of those that wryte them I contempne.

_Hog_. They are worthie Of nothing but contempt.

_Bar_. That I confes, too; But yet we must expect much opposition Ere your opinions be confirmd. I know The _Prince of Orange_ a sworne enemie To your affections: he has vowd to crosse you, But I will still stand for you. My advice is That, having won the Burgers to your partie, Perswade them to enroll new Companies For their defence against the Insolence Of the old Soldiers garisond at _Utrecht_. Yet practise on them, too, and they may urge this: That since they have their pay out of that Province, Justice requires they should be of their partie: All that is don in _Utrecht_ shalbe practisd In _Roterdam_ and other Townes I name not. Farther directions you shall have hereafter, Till when I leave you.

_Gro_. With all zeale and care We will performe this. [_Exit_.[148]

_Leid_. This foundation Is well begun.

_Gro_. And may the building prosper.

_Mod_. Yet let me tell you, where Religion Is made a cloke to our bad purposes They seldom have succes.

_Bar_. You are too holly: We live now not with Saincts but wicked men, And any thriving way we can make use of, What shape so ere it weares, to crosse their arts, We must embrace and cherish; and this course (Carrying a zealous face) will countenaunce Our other actions. Make the Burgers ours, Raise Soldiers for our guard, strengthen our side Against the now unequall opposition Of this Prince that contemns us;[149] at the worst, When he shall know there are some Regiments We may call ours, and that have no dependaunce Upon his favour, 'twill take from his pride And make us more respected.

_Mod_. May it prove so.

_Enter Bredero, Vandort, Officers_.

_Bre_. Good day, my Lord.

_Vand_. Good Mounseiur Advocate, You are an early stirrer.

_Bar_. 'Tis my dutie To wayte your Lordships pleasure: please you to walke.

_Bre_. The Prince is wanting, and this meeting being Touching the oath he is to take, 'twere fitt That we attend him.

_Bar_. That he may set downe What he will sweare, prescribing lymitts to us! We need not add this wind by our observaunce To sailes too full alredy. Oh, my Lords, What will you doe? Have we with so much blood Maintaind our liberties, left the allegeaunce (How justly now it is no time to argue) To _Spaine_, to offer up our slavish necks To one that only is what we have made him? For, be but you yourselves, this _Prince of Orange_ Is but as _Barnavelt_, a Servant to Your Lordships and the State; like me maintaind; The pomp he keepes, at your charge: will you then Wayt his prowd pleasure, and in that confes, By daring to doe nothing, that he knowes not-- You have no absolute powre?

_Van_. I never sawe The Advocate so mov'd.

_Bar_. Now to be patient Were to be treacherous: trust once his counsaile That never yet hath faild you. Make him know That any limb of this our reverend Senate In powre is not beneath him. As we sitt Ile yeild you further reasons; i'the meane time Commaund him by the Officers of the Court Not to presse in untill your Lordships pleasure Be made knowne to him.

_Vand_. 'Tis most requisite.

_Leid_. And for the honour of the Court.

_Vand_. Goe on; You have my voice.

_Bre_. And mine;--yet wee'll proceed As judgement shall direct us.

_Vand_. 'Tis my purpose.

_Bar_. In this disgrace I have one foote on his neck; Ere long Ile set the other on his head And sinck him to the Center.

_Leid_. Looke to the dores there.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter[150] Pr. of Orange, Gra: William, Collonells & Captaines_.

_Or_. I, now methincks I feele the happynes Of being sproong from such a noble father, That sacrifizd his honour, life and fortune For his lov'd Cuntry. Now the blood and kindred Of _Horne_ and _Egmont_ (Memories great Martires), That must outlive all _Alva's_ Tirranies And when their Stories told ev'n shake his ashes, Methincks through theis vaines now, now at this instant, I feele their Cuntries losse; I feele[151] too--

_Will_. All feele sencibly, And every noble hart laments their miseries, And every eie, that labours not with mallice, Sees your great services and through what dangers You have raisd those noble speritts monuments.

_Or_. What I have don I look not back to magnifie; My Cuntry calld me to it. What I shall yet doe, With all the industrie and strength I have lent me And grace of heaven to guid, so it but satisfie The expectation of the State commaunds me And in my Cuntries eye appeere but lovely, I shall sitt downe, though old and bruizd yet happie; Nor can the bitter and bold tounge of mallice, That never yet spoke well of faire deservings, With all hir course aspersions floong upon me Make me forsake my dutie, touch or shake me Or gaine so much upon me as an anger, Whilst here I hold me loyall. Yet believe, Gentlemen, Theis wrongs are neither few nor slight, nor followed By liberall tongues provokd by want or wine, For such were to be smild at and so slighted, But by those men, and shot so neer mine honour I feare my person too; but, so the State suffer not, I am as easie to forget.

_Will_. Too easie; And that feeds up their mallice to a Monster. You are the arme oth' war, the Soldiers sperit; The other but dead stories, you the dooer.

_Col_. It stands not with the honour you have won, Sir, Still built upon and betterd.

_Or_. No more, good Collonell.

_Col_. The love the Soldier beares you to give way thus! To have your actions consturd, scornd and scoffd at By such malignant soules! you are yourself, Sir, And master of more mindes that love and honour ye.[152]

_Will_. Yf you would see it; but take through the mallice The evill intended now, now bent upon ye.

_Or_. I pray ye, no more; as you love me, no more. Stupid I never was nor so secure yet To lead my patience to mine owne betraying: I shall find time and riper cause.-- [_Guard at dore_. Now, frends, Are my Lords the States set yet.

1 _Gu_. An houre agoe, Sir.

_Or_. Beshrew ye, Gentlemen, you have made me tardy: Open the dore,

1 _Gu_. I beseech your Grace to pardon me.[153]

_Or_. Do'st thou know who I am?

1 _Gu_. Yes, Sir, and honour you.

_Or_. Why do'st thou keep the dore fast then?

_Will_. Thou fellow, Thou sawcy fellow, and you that stand by gaping! Is the Prince of no more value, no more respect Then like a Page?

2 _Gu_. We beseech your Excellencies To pardon us; our duties are not wanting, Nor dare we entertaine a thought to crosse ye: We are placed here on Commaund.

_Or_. To keepe me out? Have I lost my place in Councell? are my services Growne to so poore regards, my worth so bankrupt? Or am I tainted with dishonest actions, That I am held unfitt my Cuntries busines? Who placd ye here?

1 _Gu_. The body of the Councell; And we beseech your Grace make it not our syn: They gave us strict commaund to stop your passage.

_Or_. 'Twas frendly don and like my noble masters.

_Will_. Deny you place? make good the dore against ye? This is unsufferable, most unsufferable.

_Or_. Now I begin to feele those doubts; I feare still--

_Col_. So far to dare provoke ye! 'tis too monstrous; And you forget your self, your birth, your honour, The name of Soldier if you suffer this, Suffer from these, these things, these--pox upon't!-- These molds of men made noble by your services, Your daylie sweatts.

1 _Cap_. It must not be endured thus, The wrong extends to us, we feele it severally.

2 _Cap_. Your sweet humillitie has made 'em scorne ye And us, and all the world that serve their uses; And stick themselves up teachers, masters, princes, Allmost new gods too, founders of new faithes. --Weell force your way.

_Col_. Let's see then who dare stop ye.

_Gu_. Not we, I am sure.

_Col_. Let's see who dare denie ye Your place and right of councell.

_Or_. Stay, I commaund ye; He that puts forward first to this wild action Has lost my love and is becom mine Enemy, My mortall enemie. Put up your weapons, You draw 'em against order, duty, faith; And let me die ere render such examples. The men you make so meane, so slight account of, And in your angers prise, not in your honours, Are Princes, powerfull Princes, mightie Princes; That daylie feed more men of your great fashion And noble ranck, pay and maintaine their fortunes, Then any monarch _Europe_ has: and for this bountie, If ye consider truly, Gentlemen, And honestly, with thankfull harts remember, You are to pay them back againe your service: They are your masters, your best masters, noblest, Those that protect your states, hold up your fortunes; And for this good you are to sacrifize Your thancks and duties, not your threats and angers. I and all Soldiers els that strike with their armes, And draw from them the meanes of life and honour, Are doble tyde in faith to observe their pleasures.

_Col_. A Prince of rare humanitie and temper. Sir, as you teach us armes, you man our minds, too, With civill precepts, making us true Soldiers, Then worthie to receive a trust from others When we stand masters of our owne discretions.

_Enter Barnavelt, Modesbargen, Leidenberch, Grotius Bredero, Vandort & Hogerbeets_.

_Will_. Your good and great example tyes us all, Sir.

_Cap_. The Councell's broken up.

_Or_. My noble Lords, Let it not seeme displeasing to your wisdomes, I humbly ask in what I have offended, Or how suspected stand, or with what cryme blotted, That this day from your fellowship, your councell, My Cuntries care and where I owe most service, Like a man perishd in his worth I am exilde.

_Bar_. Your Grace must know we cannot wait attendaunce, Which happely you looke for.

_Or_. Wayt, my lords!

_Bar_. Nor what we shall designe for the States comfort Stay your deliberate crosses. We know you are able, And every way a wise Prince fitt for counsell; But I must tell ye, Sir, and tell ye truly, The Soldier has so blowne ye up, so swelld ye And those few services you call your owne, That now our commendations are too light gales, Too slacke and emptie windes, to move your worthes; And trumpets of your owne tongue and the Soldiers Now onely fill your sailes.

_Bre_. Be not so bitter.

_Bar_. We mix with quiet speritts, staid and temperate, And those that levell at not great but good ends Dare hold us their Companions, not their Servants, And in that ranck be ready to supply us. Your Grace is growne too haughtie.

_Leid_. Might it please you But thinck, Sir, of our honest services (I dare not terme them equall) and but waigh well, In which I know your Grace a perfect master, Your judgment excellent, and then but tell us And truly (which I know your goodnes will doe) Why should we seeme so poore, so undertrodden, And though not trusted with the State and Councell, Why so unable vallued. Pardon, great Sir, If those complaine who feele the waight of envy, If such poore trod on wormes make show to turne againe. Nor is it we that feele, I hope, nor you, Sir, That gives the cullour of this difference: Rumour has many tongues but few speak truth: We feele not onely,--if we did 'twere happie-- Our Cuntry, Sir, our Cuntrie beares the blow too; But you were ever noble.

_Or_. Good my Lords, Let it be free your Servant, chargd in mallice, If not fling of his crymes, at least excuse 'em To you my great correcter. Would to heaven, Sir, That syn of pride and insolence you speake of, That pufft up greatnes blowne from others follyes Were not too neere akin to your great Lordship And lay not in your bosom, your most deere one. You taint me, Sir, with syns concerne my manners,-- If I have such Ile studdy to correct 'em; But, should I taint you, I should charge ye deeper: The cure of those would make ye shrinck and shake, too, --Shake of your head.

_Bar_. You are too weak ith' hams, Sir.

_Or_. Who raisd these new religious forces, Sir, And by what warrant? what assignement had ye From the States generall? who blew new fires? Even fires of fowle rebellion, I must tell ye; The bellowes to it, Religion. You were lov'd yet But for your ends,--through all the Townes, the Garrisons, To fright the union of the State, to shake it. What syns are theis? You may smile with much comfort, And they that see ye and not looke closely to ye May crye too er't be long.

_Bar_. Your Grace has leave, Sir, And tis right good it be soe.--Follow me home, And there Ile give ye new directions How to proceed, and sodainely.

_Leid_. | We are yours, Sir. _Mod_. | [_Exeunt Bar., Leid., Mod_.

_Or_. My lords, to what a monster this man's grown You may (if not abusd with dull securitie) See plaine as day.

_Bre_. We doe not like his carriage.

_Van_. He do's all, speakes all, all disposes.

_Or_. Spoiles all. He that dare live to see him work his ends out Uncrossd and unprevented, that wretched man Dare live to see his Cuntry shrinck before him. Consider my best lords, my noblest masters, How most, most fitt, how just and necessary A sodaine and a strong prevention.

_Bre_. We all conceave your Grace and all look through him And find him what we feare not yet but grieve at. You shall have new Commission from us all To take in all those Townes he has thrust his men in: When you have that, proceed as likes your Excellence.

_Or_. Your lordships true friend and most obedient Servant.

_Van_. Come to the present busines then.

_Or_. We attend you.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Secundus_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Barnavelt, Leidenberch, Modesbargen_.

_Bar_. I have with danger venturd thus far to you That you might know by me our plot's discoverd. But let not that discourage you: though _Van Dort_ And _Bredero_, with others, have assented To force this Towne, stand you still on your Guard, And on my reputation rest assured With violence they never dare attempt you; For that would give the world to understand Th'united Provinces, that by their concord So long have held out 'gainst th'opposition Of all _Spaines_ Governours, their plotts and armyes, Make way to their most certaine ruyn by A Civill warre.

_Leid_. This cannot be denide.

_Bar_. And so at any time we may make our peace, Returning to our first obedience Upon what termes we please.

_Mod_. That is not certaine; For, should we tempt them once to bring their forces Against the Towne and find we give it up For want of strength to keepe it, the Conditions To which we must subscribe are in their will And not our choice or pleasure.

_Bar_. You are governd More by your feare then reason.

_Mod_. May it prove soe: That way I would be guiltie.

_Bar_. How appeere The new raisd Companies?

_Leid_. They stand full and faithfull; And for the Burgers, they are well affected To our designes. The _Arminians_ play their parts too, And thunder in their meetings hell and dampnation To such as hold against us.

_Bar_. 'Tis well orderd: But have you tride by any meanes (it skills not How much you promise) to wyn the old Soldiers (The _English_ Companies, in chief, I ayme at) To stand firme for us?

_Leid_. We have to that purpose Imploid _Rock-Giles_, with some choice Burgers els That are most popular to the Officers That doe commaund here in the Collonells absence. We expect them every mynitt. Yf your Lordship (For 'tis not fitt, I think, you should be seene) Will please to stand aside (yet you shalbe Within the hearing of our Conference) You shall perceive we will imploy all arts To make them ours.

_Mod_. They are come.

_Bar_. Be earnest with them.

_Enter Rock-Giles, 2 Burgers, Captaines, Leuitenant_.

_R: Giles_. With much adoe I have brought 'em: the prowde Shellains[154] Are paid too well, and that makes them forget We are their Masters.

1 _Burg_. But when we tooke them on, Famishd allmost for want of entertainement, Then they cryde out they would do any thing We would commaund them.

1 _Cap_. And so we say still, Provided it be honest.

_Giles_. Is it fitt That mercenary Soldiers, that for pay Give up their liberties and are sworne t'expose Their lyves and fortunes to all dangers, should Capitulate with their Lords?

1 _Burg_. Prescribing when They are pleasd to be commaunded and for what.

_Giles_. Answeare to this.

_Leuit_. You know our resolutions, And therefore, Captaine, speak for all.

1 _Cap_. I will, And doe it boldly: We were entertaind To serve the generall States and not one Province; To fight as often as the Prince of _Orange_ Shall lead us forth, and not to stand against him; To guard this Cuntrie, not to ruyn it; To beat of foreigne Enemies, not to cherish Domestique factions. And where you upbraid us With the poore means we have to feed, not cloath us, Forgetting at how deere a rate we buy The triffles we have from you, thus I answeare:-- Noe Cuntrie ere made a defensive war And gaind by it but you. What privat Gentleman That onely trailes a pike, that comes from _England_ Or _Fraunce_, but brings gold with him which he leaves here And so enriches you? Where such as serve The _Polander, Bohemian, Dane_, or _Turck_, Though they come almost naked to their Collours, Besides their pay (which they contempne) the spoiles Of armyes overthrowne, of Citties sackd, Depopulations of wealthie Cuntries, If he survive the uncertaine chaunce of war, Returne him home to end his age in plenty Of wealth and honours.

_Bar_. This is shrewdly urgd.

1 _Cap_. Where we, poore wretches, covetous of fame onely, Come hether but as to a Schoole of war To learne to struggle against cold and hunger, And with unwearied steps to overcome A tedious march when the hot Lyons breath Burnes up the feilds; the glory that we ayme at Being our obedience to such as doe Commaund in cheif; to keepe our rancks, to fly More then the death all mutenies and rebellions. And would you then, whose wisdomes should correct Such follies in us, rob us of that litle, That litle honour that rewards our service, To bring our necks to the Hangmans Sword or Halter, Or (should we scape) to brand our foreheads with The name of Rebells?

_Giles_. I am put to a non plus:-- Speake mine Here Secretarie.

_Leid_. I have heard So much deliverd by you and so well, Your actions, too, at all parts answearing What you have spoken, that I must acknowledge We all stand far indebted to your service: And therefore, as unto the worthiest, The faithfullest and strongest that protect Us and our Cuntries, we now seek to you, And would not but such men should be remembred As principall assistants in the Care Of a disease which now the State lyes sick of. I know you love the valiant Prince, and yet You must graunt him a Servant to the States As you are, Gentlemen, and therefore will not Defend that in him which you would not cherish In cold blood in your selves; for should he be Disloyall--

_Leuit_. He disloyall! 'tis a language I will not heare.

2 _Cap_. Such a suspition of him Is one that wore a Sword deserv'd the lye.

1 _Cap_. We know your oild tongue; and your rethorique Will hardly work on us that are acquainted With what faire language your ill purposes Are ever cloathd, nor ever wilbe won To undervalue him whose least fam'd service Scornes to be put in ballance with the best Of all your Counsailes; and for his faith, O heaven! It do's as far transcend yours in your praires As light do's darkness.

_Leid_. I perceive 'tis true That such as flatter Servants make them prowd. Wee'll use a rougher way, and here commaund you To leave the Towne, and sodainely, if you wish not To be forced hence.

1 _Cap_. Your new raisd Companies Of such as never saw the Enemie Can hardly make that good: we were placed here By the allowaunce of the generall States And of the Prince to keep it to their use.

_Leuit_. And we will doe it.

1 _Cap_. And while there is Lead Upon a house, or any Soldier master But of a doyt: when that is gon, expect That we will make you sport, or leave our lives To witness we were faithfull.--Come, Lieutenant, Let us draw up the Companies; and then Charge on us when you please. [_Exeunt_.

_Mod_. This I foresaw.

_Bar_. Oh, I am lost with anger! are we falne So lowe from what we were, that we dare heare This from our Servants and not punish it? Where is the terrour of our names, our powre That _Spaine_ with feare hath felt in both his _Indies_? We are lost for ever, and from freemen growne Slaves so contemptible as no worthie Prince, That would have men, not sluggish Beasts, his Servants, Would ere vouchsafe the owning. Now, my frends, I call not on your furtherance to preserve The lustre of my actions; let me with them Be nere remembred, so this government Your wives, your lives and liberties be safe: And therefore, as you would be what you are, Freemen and masters of what yet is yours, Rise up against this Tirant, and defend With rigour what too gentle lenitie Hath almost lost.

_Leid_. Ile to the new raisd Soldiers And make them firme.

_Giles_. Ile muster up the Burgers And make them stand upon their guard.

_Mod_. For me Ile not be wanting.

_Bar_. Ile back to the _Hage_ And something there Ile doe that shall divert The torrent that swells towards us, or sinck in it; And let this Prince of _Orange_ seat him sure, Or he shall fall when he is most secure.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

_Enter Holderus, Dutch-woemen and an English Gentlew_.

1 _D. W_. Here come the Sisters: that's an _English_ Gentlewoman, Let's pray for hir Conversion.

2 _D. W_. You are wellcom, Lady, And your comming over hether is most happy; For here you may behold the generall freedom We live and traffique in, the ioy of woemen. No emperious _Spanish_ eye governes our actions, Nor _Italian_ jealouzie locks up our meetings: We are ourselves our owne disposers, masters; And those that you call husbands are our Servants.

3 _D. W_. Your owne Cuntry breedes ye hansom, maintaines ye brave, But with a stubborne hand the husbands awe ye: You speake but what they please, looke where they point ye, And though ye have some libertie 'tis lymitted.

4 _D. W_. Which cursse you must shake of. To live is nothing; To live admird and lookd at,--poore deservings But to live soe, so free you may commaund, Lady, Compell, and there raigne Soveraigne.

1 _D. W_. Do you thinck there's any thing Our husbands labour for, and not for our ends? Are we shut out of Counsailes, privacies, And onely lymitted our household busines? No, certaine, Lady; we pertake with all, Or our good men pertake no rest. Why this man Works theis or theis waies, with or against the State, We know and give allowaunces.

_2 D. W_. Why such a Gentleman, Thus hansom and thus yong, commaunds such a quarter; Where theis faire Ladies lye; why the _Grave's_ angry And Mounseiur _Barnavelt_ now discontent,-- Do you thinck it's fitt we should be ignorant?

_2 D. W_. Or why there's sprung up now a new devotion? Good Gentlewoman, no. Do you see this fellow? He is a Scholler and a parlous Scholler, Or whether he be a Scholler or no 'tis not a doy't matter: He's a fine talker and a zealous talker; We can make him thinck what we list, say what we list, Print what we list and whom we list abuse in't.

_Eng.-gentw_. And a Teacher do you say?

_2 D. W_. A singuler teacher, For so we hold such here.

_Eng.-gentw_. Doe they use no modestie Upon my life, some of theis new _Arminians_, Theis hissing tosts!

_Hold_. An ignorant strange woman, Whose faith is onely tride by a Coach and foure horses.

_3 D. W_. Come, you must be as we are and the rest of your Countrywomen; You doe not know the sweet on't.

_Eng.-gentw_. Indeed, nor will not; Our Cuntry brings us up to faire Obedience To know our husbands for our Governours, So to obey and serve 'em: two heads make monsters; Nor Dare we thinck of what is don above us, Nor talk of _Graves_.

_Hold_. The _Grave_ shall smart for 't shortly; Goe you and tell him soe, gooddy _English woman_: You have long tayles and long tongues, but we shall clip 'em.

_Enter Vandermitten_.[155]

_I D. W_. How now? what haste?

_Vand_. The Prince is drawing up to us And has disarmd all the strong Townes about us Of our new Soldiers; the _English_ now stand only And the old Companies.

_Eng.-gentw_. Now your wisdomes, Ladies, Your learning also, Sir, your learned prating-- You that dare prick your eares up at great Princes And doble charge your tongue with new opinions,-- What can you doe? or can theis holly woemen That you have arm'd against obedience And made contempners of the fooles their husbands, Examiners of State,--can they doe any thing? Can they defy the Prince?

_Hold_. They shall defie him, And to his face: why doe not ye raise the Burgers And draw up the new Companies?

_Enter Leidenberge_?[156]

_Leid_. Away, good women! This is no sport for you: goe, cheere your husbands And bid 'em stand now bravely for their liberties. _Arnam_ and _Roterdam_ and all about us Have yeilded him obedience; all the new Companies Purgd and disarmd. Goe you; talke to the _Arminians_, And raise their harts. Good Ladies, no more Councells: This is no time to puppet in.

1 _D. W_. We are gon, Sir,

_2 D. W_. And will so coniure up our lazie husbands.

_Eng.-gentw_. And coniure wisely, too; the devill will faile else. [_Exeunt Women_.

_Leid_. What's she?

_Vand_. An _English_ woman.

_Leid_. Would they were all shipt well To th' other part oth' world. Theis stubborne _English_ We onely feare.

_Vand_. We are strong enough to curb 'em.

_Leid_. But we have turnop hearts.

_Enter a Messenger_.

Now what's the next newes?

_Mess_.[157] The Prince is at the Barriers, and desires his entraunce

_Leid_. He must not enter:--what Company is with him?

_Mess_. But few, and those unarmd too: about some twentie.

_Leid_. And what behind?

_Mess_. We can discover none.

_Leid_. Let's goe and view: Brothers, be strong and valiant; We have lost the Towne els and our freedoms with it. [_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter 1 Captaine[158] and Soldiers_.

_Sold_. They charge us not to let him in.

1 _Cap_. We will doe it; He has our faithes.--What strengthe's upon the Guard?

_Sold_. Two hundred _English_.

1 _Cap_. Goe, and give this comaund then: That if any Burgers or _Arminian_ Soldiers Offer to come upon the Guard, or let in or out Any without our knowledge, presently To bend their strength upon 'em.

_Sold_. It shalbe don. [_Exit_.

1 _Cap_. Do you disperse to the old Companies, Bid 'em be ready; tell 'em now is the time, And charge 'em keepe a strong eye ore the Burgers. Ile up to'th Guard.

_Sold_. Wee'le doe it seriously.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 4.

_Enter Prince of Orange, William, Captaine,[159] Leiutenant, &c_.

_Or_. None of our frends upon the Portt? Is this the welcom Of such a Towne, so bound in preservation To us and ours?

2 _Cap_. The Prince is sadly angry.

_Leiut_. Can ye blame him, Captaine, when such a den of dog whelps Are fosterd here against him? You will rouse anon: There are old Companies sure, honest and faithfull, That are not poysond with this ranck infection. Now they appeare, Sir.

_Enter Captaine[160] on the walls_.

1 _Cap_. Will your Grace please to enter?

_Or_. And thanck ye too.

1 _Cap_. The Port is open for ye.

_Or_. You see my number.

1 _Cap_. But I hope 'tis more, Sir.

_Or_. Theis must in first; 'Twill breed a good securitie.

1 _Cap_. We stand all ready for your Grace.

_Or_. We thanck ye.

1 _Cap_. What Companies come on, Sir.

_Or_. Three Troope of horse, That will be with ye presently: keepe strong the Port.

1 _Cap_. Enter when please your Grace; we shall stand sure, Sir.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 5.

_Enter Leidenberge, Vandermitten,[161] Rock Giles_.

_Leid_. Is he come in, do you say?

_Vand_. He is, but followed So slenderly and poore.

_Leid_. We are undon then; He knowes too well what ground he ventures on. Where are the _Arminian_ Soldiers?

_R. Giles_. They stand ith' market place.

_Leid_. Are they well armd?

_R. Giles_. Ready to entertaine him.

_Leid_. Who commaunds the Port?

_Vand_. The _English_.

_Leid_. Ten towsand devills! Odd's sacrament! a meere trick to betray us.

_Vand_. We can discover none behind.

_Leid_. A trick: Those _English_ are the men borne to undooe us.

_Enter Messenger_.[162]

_Mess_. Arme, arme, and now stand to your ancient freedoms! Three troope of horse, ten Companies of foote Are enterd now the Port.

_Leid_. I told ye, Gentlemen.

_Mess_. The _English_ make a stand upon the new Companies, Ready to charge 'em if they stirr.

_Leid_. Oh mischief! All our designes are crackt, layed open, ruynd: Let's looke if any cure remaine. O devill!

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 6.

_Enter Duch-woemen and Burgers_.

_Duch-W_. The Prince, the Prince, the Prince! O our husbands.

_Burg_. Goe pray, goe pray, goe pray: We shalbe hangd all.

_Duch-W_. I would it were no worse:

_Enter Eng.-gentw_.

_Eng.-gentw_. Now where's your valours, You that would eat the Prince?

_Duch-W_. Sweet _English_ Gentlewoman.

_Eng.-gentw_. Fy, doe not run! for shame! body a me, How their feare outstincks their garlick! litle Sir _Gregory_,

_Enter Holderus_.[163]

Art thou afraid, too? out with thy two edgd tongue And lay about thee!

_Hold_. Out o' my way, good woeman, Out o' my way: I shalbe whipt, and hangd too.

_Eng.-gentw_. Theis fellowes have strong faithes and notable valours: Ile walk about and see this sport.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 7.

_Enter Orange, Leidenberge, Burgers, Captaines, Soldiers, and Arminians_.

_Or_. Now, Mounseuir _Leidenberge_ you may se openly The issues of your desperate undertakings, And your good helpes, myne Heeires; now you must feele too, And to your greifes, what the deserts of those are That boldly dare attempt their Cuntries ruyn And who we serve, how faithfully and honestly You must and shall confes too: not to blind ends Hood-winckt with base ambition, such as yours are, But to the generall good.--Let[164] theis new Companies March by us through the Market, so to the Guard house, And there disarme;--wee'll teach ye true obedience;-- Then let 'em quitt the Towne, hansom swag fellowes And fitt for fowle play.

_Leiut_. Theis are but heavy marches.

_Or_. They wilbe lighter straight, when they are unfurnishd You put your trust in theis; you have tall defences,-- Treason maintaind with heresie, fitt weapons! --So now disarme the Towne: wee'll plant new Governours!

_Leid_. Will your Grace be pleasd to heare?

_Or_. Yes, at the _Hage_, Sir, Till when bethinck you of your acts and answeares, For there before the generall State--Where's _Modesbargen_?

_Cap_. He left the Towne two daies agoe.

_Or_. A guilty feare, But we shall fright him worsse. Good order take For the Towne, and what fitt Garrison to leave in't. We are homeward bound, where we shall make you wellcom, You have instructed us in what free fashion. Come, Gentlemen, let's now goe take our rest: Prowd confidence is but a foole at best.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Tercius_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Bredero, Vandort_.[165]

_Bre_. Myne Heire Vandort, what thinck ye of the Prince now?

_Vandort_. Like a true noble Gentlemen he has borne himself And a faire fortunate Soldier: I hold the State, Sir, Most happie in his care, and this torne Cuntry, Whose wounds smart yet, most bound to his deliveraunce.

_Bre_. 'Tis certaine his proceedings in this busines, As in all els, have byn most wise and constant And waited on with full wingd Expedition: How many Townes armd with theis new Pretenders, Stird up and steeld by founders of new doctrines, The collour to their Cause, hath he (and sodainely) Disarmd againe and setled in obedience, And without bloodshed, Lords, without the Sword And those Calamities that shake a kingdom: So gently and without noyse he has performd this As if he had don it in a dreame.

_Vand_. Most certaine, He has run through a busines will much add to him And set his vertues of with greater Lustre: But that a man so wise as Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, So trusted, so rewarded for his Service, And one that built the ladder to his honour Of open, honest actions, strong and straight still, Should now be doubted!

_Bred_. I know not nor I wish it not, But if he have a fowle hart't has byn hid long, And cunningly that poyson has byn carried.

_Vand_. But why a father to theis new professions? Why should he strengthen those opinions That all true learning much laments and greives at And sincks the soules sweet union into ruyn? Why theis, my lords? and why in every Garrison, Unles he had an end that shot at evill, Should he so strongly plant theis fire-brands And through his powre add daylie to their nombers?

_Bred_. Most sure he is suspected, strongly suspected But that a man of his great trust and busines Should sinck or suffer under doubts or whispers Or loose his honour by an others envy, Is not faire play nor honest. The Prince of _Orange_, Most thinck, affects him not, nor he the Prince. That either of their angry wills should prove A lawful act to ruyn one another, And not a medium of more open Justice, More equall and more honorable, step in, Man had no powre to stand nor fall with honour. If he be falce, honest and upright proofes Will ripen the Imposture.

_Enter Barnavelt and his Son_.

[1 _Lord_.[166] Here he comes, sir.]

_Vand_. Methincks he beares not in his Countenaunce The fulnes of that grave and constant sperit, Nor in his eye appeeres that heat and quicknes He was wont to move withall.--Salute, and counsell: Let's leave him to his thoughts.

_Son_. They mind ye not: Now, as I have a soule, they looke not on ye.

_Bar_. My noble Lords, what is't appeeres upon me So ougly strange you start and fly my Companie? What plague sore have ye spide, what taynt in honour, What ill howre in my life so cleere deserving That rancks in this below your fellowships? For which of all my cares, of all my watches, My services (too many and too mightie To find rewards) am I thus recompenced, Not lookd on, not saluted, left forgotten Like one that came to petition to your honours,-- Over the shoulder sleighted?

_Bred_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, I am sorry that a man of your great wisdom And those rare parts that make ye lov'd and honourd, In every Princes Court highly esteemd of, Should loose so much in point of good and vertue Now in the time you ought to fix your faith fast, The creadit of your age, carelessly loose it,-- I dare not say, ambitiously--that your best frends, And those that ever thought on your example, Dare not with comon safetie now salute ye.

_Bar_. I loose in point of honour! My frends feare me! My age suspected too! now as ye are iust men Unknit this riddle.

1 _Lord_. You are doubted, strongly doubted.

_Bar_. O the devill.

2 _Lord_. Your loialtie suspected.

_Bar_. Who dare doe this?

_Bred_. We wish all well; and you that know how dangerous In men of lesser mark theis foule attempts are And often have bewaild 'em in the meanest, I make no doubt will meet your owne fault sodainely And chide yourself; grow faire againe and flourish In the same full esteeme ye held and favour.

_Bar_. And must I heare this sett downe for all my service? Is this the glorious mark of my deservings? Taynted and torne in honour must I perish, And must theis silver curles, ô you unthanckfull, Theis emblemes of my frostie cares and travells For you and for the State, fall with disgraces? Goe, fall before your new Prince! worship him, Fill all your throates with flattery, cry before him 'Tis he, and onely he, has truly serv'd ye! Forget me and the peace I have wrought your Cuntry; Bury my memory, raze out my name, My forty yeares endeavoures write in dust That your great Prince may blow 'em into nothing; And on my Monument (you most forgetfull) Fling all your scornes, erect an yroon-toothed envy That she may gnaw the pious stones that hides me.

_Vand_. Ye are too much mov'd, and now too late ye find, Sir, How naked and unsafe it is for a long Gowne To buckle with the violence of an Army. The Emperour _Traian_ challenging a yong man And a swift runner to try his speed against him, The Gentleman made answeare sodainely It was not safe nor fitt to hold contention With any man commaunded thirtie legions. You know the Prince and know his noble nature, I thinck you know his powre, too: of all your wisdomes This will not show the least nor prove the meanest In good mens eyes, I thinck, in all that know ye, To seeke his love: gentle and faire demeanours Wyn more then blowes and soften stubborne angers. Let me perswade ye.

_Bar_. When I am a Sycophant And a base gleaner from an others favour, As all you are that halt upon his crutches. Shame take that smoothnes and that sleeke subjection! I am myself, as great in good as he is, As much a master of my Cuntries fortunes, And one to whom (since I am forcd to speak it, Since mine owne tongue must be my Advocate) This blinded State that plaies at boa-peep with us, This wanton State that's weary of hir lovers And cryes out "Give me younger still and fresher!" Is bound and so far bound: I found hir naked, Floung out a dores and starvd, no frends to pitty hir, The marks of all her miseries upon hir, An orphan State that no eye smild upon: And then how carefully I undertooke hir, How tenderly and lovingly I noursd hir! But now she is fatt and faire againe and I foold, A new love in hir armes, my doatings scornd at. And I must sue to him! be witnes, heaven, If this poore life were forfeyt to his mercy, At such a rate I hold a scornd subiection I would not give a penney to redeeme it. I have liv'd ever free, onely depended Upon the honestie of my faire Actions, Nor am I now to studdy how to die soe.

_Bred_. Take better thoughts.

_Bar_. They are my first and last, The legacie I leave my friends behind me. I never knew to flatter, to kneele basely And beg from him a smile owes me an honour. Ye are wreatches, poore starv'd wreatches fedd on crumbs That he flings to ye: from your owne aboundaunce Wreatched and slavish people ye are becom That feele the griping yoak and yet bow to it. What is this man, this Prince, this God ye make now, But what our hands have molded, wrought to fashion, And by our constant labours given a life to? And must we fall before him now, adoare him, Blow all we can to fill his sailes with greatnes? Worship the Image we set up ourselves? Put fate into his hand? into his will Our lives and fortunes? howle and crye to our owne clay "Be mercifull, ô Prince?" ô, pittied people! Base, base, poore patch men! You dare not heare this; You have sold your eares to slavery; begon and flatter. When ere your politick Prince putts his hooke into my nose Here must he put his Sword too.

_Bred_. We lament ye.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter the Son_.

_Son_. We are undon, Sir.

_Bar_. Why?

_Son_. For certaine perishd. _Utrecht_ is taken in, _Modesbargen_ fled, And _Leidenberge_ a Servant to their pleasures,-- A prisoner, Sir.

_Bar_. Ha!

_Son_. 'Tis too true.

_Bar_. A prisoner?

_Son_. And, some say, has byn tortured, reveald much, Even all he knowes. No letters are against ye, For those he burnt; but they have so much foold him That his owne tongue--

_Bar_. He cannot be so boyish.

_Son_. My goverment of _Barghen_ is disposd of; Their anger now against us all profest, And in your ruyn all must fall.

_Bar_. A prisoner! _Modesbargen_ fledd! I am glad he is scapt their fingers. Now if the devill had but this _Leidenberge_ I were safe enough. What a dull foole was I, A stupid foole, to wrap up such a secreat In a sheepes hart! ô I could teare my flesh now And beat my leaden braines!

_Son_. Faith, try the Prince, Sir; You are at your last.

_Bar_. Art thou my Son? thou lyest; I never got a Parasite, a Coward. I seeke the Prince or bend in base submission! Ile seeke my grave first. Yf I needes must fall And that the fatall howre is cast of _Barnavelt_, Just like a strong demolishd Tower ile totter And fright the neighbour Cuntries with my murmour. My ruyns shall reach all: the valiant Soldier, Whose eies are unacquainted but with anger, Shall weep for me because I fedd and noursd him; Princes shall mourne my losse, and this unthanckfull, Forgetful Cuntry, when I sleepe in ashes, Shall feele and then confes I was a father.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

_Enter P. of Orange, William, Bredero, Vandort, Lords, Collonells, Captaines_.

_Bred_. Will your Excellence please to sitt?

[_Table: Bell_.

_Or_. I am prowd your Lordships So willingly restore me to that place From which the envy of the Advocate Of late hath forcd me. And that you may know, How ere his mallice live to me, all hatred Is dead in me to him, I am a Suitour He may be sent for; for, as _Barnavelt_ is A member of this body politique, I honour him, and will not scorne to yeild A strict accompt of all my Actions to him; And, though my Enemie, while he continues A frend to his owne fame and loyall to[167] The State, I love him and shall greive that he, When he falls from it must deserve my pitty.

_Vand_. This disposition in your Excellence Do's well becom you, but would wrong our iudgements To call one as a partner to these counsailes That is suspected, and ev'n then when all His dark designes and deepest purposes Are to be sifted.

_Bred_. It were most unfit, And therefore we entreat your Highnes to[167] Presse it no further.

_Or_. My good lords, your pardon; You are your owne disposers.--Gentlemen, I shall a while entreat ye to forbeare The troble that you put upon yourselves In following me. I can need no defence here, Being left among these whose grave counsailes ever Have lookd out for my safetie. 'Tis your pleasure And therefore I embrace it.

[_Exeunt Collonells & Captaines_.

_Vand_. Now, when you please, Your Excellence may deliver what you have Observ'd concerning the _Arminian_ faction, What hopes and heads it had, for without question It found more favorers, and great ones too, Then yet we have discoverd.

_Or_. My grave Lords, That it hath byn my happines to take in, And with so litle blood, so many Townes That were falne of, is a large recompence For all my travell; and I would advise That (since[168] all now sing the sweet tunes of Concord, No Sword unsheathd, the meanes to hurt cut off, And all their stings pluckd out that would have used them Against the publique peace) we should end here And not with labour search for that which will Afflict us when 'tis found. Something I know That I could wish I nere had understood, Which yet if I should speake, as the respect And duty that I owe my Cuntry binds me, It wilbe thought 'tis rather privat spleene Then pious zeale. But that is not the hazard Which I would shun: I rather feare the men We must offend in this, being great, rich, wise, Sided with strong frends, trusted with the guard Of places most important, will bring forth Rather new births of tumult, should they be Calld to their Triall, then appease disorder In their iust punishment; and in doing Justice On three or foure that are delinquents, loose So many thousand inocents that stand firme And faithfull patriots. Let us leave them therefore To the scourge of their owne consciences: perhaps Th'assurance that they are yet undiscoverd, Because not cyted to their answeare, will So work with them hereafter to doe well That we shall ioy we sought no farther in it.

_Vand_. Such mild proceedings in a Goverment New setled, whose maine strength had it's dependaunce Upon the powre of some perticuler men, Might be given way to, but in ours it were Unsafe and scandalous: then the _Provinces_ Have lost their liberties, Justice hir Sword, And we prepared a way for our owne ruyn When for respect or favour unto any, Of what condition soever, we Palliat seditions and forbeare to call Treason by hir owne name.

1 _Lord_. It must not be: Such mercie to ourselves were tirranie.

2 _Lord_. Nor are we to consider who they are That have offended, but what's the offence And how it should be punishd, to deter Others by the example.

_Bred_. Which we will doe; And using that united powre which warrants All we thinck fitt, we doe intreat your Highnes (For willingly we would not say comaund you), As you affect the safetie of the State Or to preserve your owne deserved honours And never-tainted loyaltie, to make knowne All such as are suspected.

_Or_. I obey you; And though I cannot give up certaine proofes To point out the delinquents, I will name The men the generall voice proclaimes for guiltie. _Modesbargens_ flight assures him one, nor is The pentionary of _Roterdam_[169] _Grotius_, Free from suspition: from _Utrecht_ I have brought The Secretarie _Leidenberge_, who hath Confest alredy something that will give us Light to find out the rest. I would end here And leave out _Barnavelt_.

_Bred_. If he be guiltie He's to be nam'd and punishd with the rest.

_Vand_. Upon good evidence, but not till then To be committed.

_Will_. 'Twer expedient That something should be practisd to bring in _Modesbargen_. Out of him the truth of all May be wroong out.

_Bred_. The advice is sound and good.

_Vand_. But with much difficultie to be performd; For how to force him out of _Germanie_ (Whether they say hee's fledd) without a war, At least the breaking of that league we have Concluded with them, I ingeniously Confes my ignoraunce.

_Or_. Since you approve it, Leave that to me.

_Enter Officer_[170]

_Off_. My lord.

_Or_. Call in the Captaine You saw me speake with at the dore.

_Off_. 'Tis don. [_Exit_.

_Bred_. What does your Excellence ayme at?

_Or_. Have but patience, You shall know sodainely.

_Enter Captaine_.[171]

_Cap_. My good Angell keepe me And turne it to the best.--What am I sent for?

_Or_. You are wellcom, Captaine; nay 'tis for your good That you are calld for. You are well acquainted With all the parts of _Germanie_?

_Cap_. I have livd there. Most of my time.

_Or_. But doe you know the Castle Belonging to _Modesbargens_ Aunt or Cosen,-- Which 'tis I know not?

_Cap_. Very well, my Lord; A pleasant Cuntry 'tis, and yeilds good hunting.

_Bred_. And that's a sport _Modesbargen_ from his youth Was much inclind to.

_Or_. Wee'll make use of it. It is of waight that you must undertake, And does require your secrecie and care.

_Cap_. In both I wilbe faithfull.

_Or_. I beleeve you; And, to confirme it, with all possible speed I would have you to post thether: from the Borders Make choice of any horsemen you thinck fitt, And, when you come there, devide them into parties And lodge neere to the Castle. Yf _Modesbargen_ Come forth to hunt, or if at any time You find the draw-bridge up, break in upon him And willing or unwilling force him hether. You shall have gold to furnish you, and this don Propose your owne rewards, they shalbe graunted.

_Cap_. Yf I be wanting let my head pay for it; Ile instantly about it. [_Exit_.

_Or_. Doe, and prosper.

_Will_. What will you do with _Leidenberge_?

_Bred_. Let him be Kept safe a while: for _Barnavelt_, till we have Some certaine proofes against him, I hold fitt He have his libertie, but be suspended From any place or voice in Court untill His guilt or inocence appeere.

_Vand_. I like it.

_Lords_. We are all of your opinion.

_Or_. Bring in _Leidenberch_.

_Enter Leidenberch, Boy, Guard_.

_Boy_. Doe all theis, father, wayt on you?

_Leid_. Yes, Boy.

_Boy_. Indeed I doe not like their Countenaunces; They looke as if they meant you litle good. Pray you, put them away.

_Leid_. Alas, poore inocent, It is for thee I suffer; for my self I have set up my rest.

_Or_. Now, Mounseiur _Leidenberch_, We send not for you, though your fault deserve it, To load you with reproofe, but to advise you To make use of the way we have found out To save your life and honour. You already, In free confession of your fault, have made A part of satisfaction; goe on in it, And you shall find a faire discovery Of youre fowle purposes and th'agents in 'em Will wyn more favour from theyr lordships to you Then any obstinate deniall can doe.

_Leid_. All that I know I will deliver to you, And beyond that your Excellence nor their Lordships Will not, I hope, perswade me.

_Vand_. In the meane time You are a prisoner.

_Boy_. Who? my father?

_Bred_. Yes, Boy.

_Boy_. Then I will be a prisoner, too. For heaven sake Let me goe with him, for theis naughtie men Will nere wayt on him well. I am usd to undresse him When he's to goe to bed, and then read to him Untill he be a sleepe, and then pray by him: I will not leave him.

_Bred_. Why, thou shalt not, Boy. Goe with thy father.

_Boy_. You are a good Lord, Indeed I love you for't and will pray for you. Come, father; now I must goe too, I care not. While I am with you, you shall have no hurt, Ile be your warrant.

_Leid_. I have lost myself, But something I shall doe.

[_Exeunt Leid., Boy, Guard_.

_Or_. 'Tis time to rise; And, if your Lordshipps please, we will defer Our other busines to an other sitting.

_Vand_. In the meane time wee'll use all honest meanes To sound the depth of this Confederacie, In which Heaven's hand direct us and assist us.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter 2 Captaines_.[172]

1 _Cap_. This is a strange cutting time.

2 _Cap_. Let 'em cutt deep enough, They will doe no great cure els. I wonder strangely They carry such a gentle hand on _Leidenberch_ That any frends come to him.

1 _Cap_. 'Has confest much, Beleeve it, and so far they feare him not, They would be els more circumspect.

2 _Cap_. Pray ye, tell me, Is there no further newes of those are fledd,-- I meane those fellow Instruments?

1 _Cap_. None as yet,-- At least divulgd abroad. But certenly The wise States are not idle, neither at this time Do's it concerne their safeties. We shall heare shortly More of theis monsters.

2 _Cap_. Let's to dynner, Sir; There we shall heare more newes.

1 _Cap_. Ile beare ye companie.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 4.

_Enter Barnavelt & Provost_.

_Bar_. And how doth he take his imprisonment, _Mr. Provost_?

_Pro_. A litle discontent, and't please your Lordship, And sad as men confind.

_Bar_. He does not talke much?

_Pro_. Litle or nothing, Sir.

_Bar_. Nor wrighte?

_Pro_. Not any thing, Yet I have charge to give him those free uses.

_Bar_. Doe you keep him close?

_Pro_. Not so close, and't like your Lordship, But you may see and speake with him.

_Bar_. I thanck ye.

_Pro_. Pray ye give me leave; Ile send him to your Honour. [_Exit_.

_Bar_. Now, _Barnavelt_, thou treadst the subtlest path, The hardest and the thorniest, most concernes thee, That ere thy carefull course of life run through: The Master peece is now a foot, which if it speed And take but that sure hold I ayme it at, I make no doubt but once more, like a Comet, To shine out faire and blaze prodigiously Even to the ruyn of those men that hate me.

_Enter Leidenberch_.

--I am sorry for your fortune.

_Leid_. 'Tis a sad one And full of burthen, but I must learne to beare it. How stands your State?

_Bar_. Upon a ball of yce That I can neither fix, nor fall with safetie.

_Leid_. The heavie hand of heaven is now upon us And we exposd, like bruizd and totterd vessells, To merciles and cruell Seas to sinck us.

_Bar_. Our Indiscreations are our evill fortunes, And nothing sincks us but [our] want of providence. O you delt coldly, Sir, and too too poorely, Not like a man fitt to stem tides of dangers, When you gave way to the Prince to enter _Utrecht_. There was a blow, a full blow at our fortunes; And that great indiscreation, that mayne blindnes, In not providing such a constant Captaine, One of our owne, to commaund the watch, but suffer The haughtie _English_ to be masters of it,-- This was not well nor fitting such a wisdom, Not provident.

_Leid_. I must confes my errour; The beastly coldnes of the drowsy Burgers Put me past all my aymes.

_Bar_. O, they are sweet Jewells! He that would put his confidence in Turnops[173] And pickled Spratts--Come, yet resume your Courage, Pluck up that leaden hart and looke upon mee; _Modesbargen's_ fledd, and what we lockt in him Too far of from their subtle keys to open, Yf we stand constant now to one another And in our soules be true.

_Leid_. That comes too late, Sir, Too late to be redeemd: as I am unfortunate In all that's gone before, in this--

_Bar_. What?

_Leid_. O, In this, this last and greatest--

_Bar_. Speake.

_Leid_. Most miserable. I have confessd. Now let your eies shoot through me And if there be a killing anger sinck me.

_Bar_. Confessd!

_Leid_. 'Tis done: this traitor tongue has don it, This coward tongue.

_Bar_. Confessd!

_Leid_. He lookes me blind now.

_Bar_. How I could cursee thee, foole, despise thee, spurne thee, But thou art a thing not worthie of mine anger. A frend! a dog: a whore had byn more secreat, A common whore a closer Cabinet. Confest! upon what safety, thou trembling aspyn, Upon what hope? Is there ought left to buoy us But our owne confidence? What frends now follow us, That have the powre to strike of theis misfortunes, But our owne constant harts? Where were my eies, My understanding, when I tooke unto me A fellow of thy falce hart for a frend? Thy melting mind! foold with a few faire words Suffer those secreats that concerne thy life, In the Revealer not to be forgiven too, To be pluckt from thy childes hart with a promise, A nod, a smile! thyself and all thy fortunes Through thy base feare made subject to example! Nor will the shott stay there, but with full violence Run through the rancke of frends, disperse and totter The best and fairest hopes thy fame was built on.

_Leid_. What have I done, how am I foold and cozend! What shall redeeme me from this Ignoraunce!

_Bar_. Not any thing thou aymst at, thou art lost: A most unpittied way thou falst.

_Leid_. Not one hope To bring me of? nothing reservd to cleere me From this cold Ignoraunce?

_Bar_. But one way left, But that thy base feare dares not let thee look on; And that way will I take, though it seeme steepe And every step stuck with affrights and horrours, Yet on the end hangs smyling peace and honour, And I will on.

_Leid_. Propound and take[174] me with ye.

_Bar_. Dye uncompelld, and mock their preparations, Their envyes and their Justice.

_Leid_. Dye?

_Bar_. Dye willingly, Dye sodainely and bravely: So will I: Then let 'em sift our Actions from our ashes. I looke to-morrow to be drawne before 'em; And doe you thinck, I, that have satt a Judge And drawne the thred of life to what length I pleasd, Will now appeare a Prisoner in the same place? Tarry for such an ebb? No, _Leidenberch_: The narrowest dore of death I would work through first Ere I turne Slave to stick their gawdy triumphes.

_Leid_. Dye, did you say? dye wilfully?

_Bar_. Dye any way, Dye in a dreame: he that first gave us honours Allowes us also safe waies to preserve 'em, To scape the hands of infamy and tirrany. We may be our owne Justice: he that loses His Creadit (deere as life) through doubt or faintness Is guilty of a doble death, his name dies; He is onely pious that preserves his heire His honour when he's dead.

_Leid_. 'Tis no great paine.

_Bar_. 'Tis nothing: Imagination onely makes it monstrous. When we are sick we endure a hundred fitts, This is but one; a hundred waies of torture, And cry and howle, weary of all about us, Our frends, allyes, our children teadious to us, Even our best health is but still sufferaunce. One blow, one short peece of an howre dos this, And this cures all; maintaines no more phisitians, Restores our memories, and there's the great cure, Where, if we stay the fatall Sword of Justice, It moawes the man downe first, and next his fashion, His living name, his creadit.

_Leid_. Give me your hand, Sir; You have put me in a path I will tread strongly; Redeeme what I have lost, and that so nobely The world shall yet confes at least I lovd ye. How much I smile at now theis peoples mallice! Dispise their subtle ends, laugh at their Justice! And what a mightie Prince a constant man is! How he can set his mind aloft, and looke at The bussings and the busines of the spightfull, And crosse when ere he please all their close weavings. Farwell, my last farwell.

_Bar_. A long farwell, Sir.

_Leid_. Our bodies are the earthes, that's their dyvorsse: But our immortall names shall twyn togeather.

_Bar_. Thus tread we backward to our graves;--but faint not.

_Leid_. Fooles onely fly their peace: thus I pursue it.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 5.

_Enter Grotius & Hogerbeets_.

_Gro_. They have arrested him, _Hogerbeets_?

_Hog_. Yes; That you all know, _Grotius_, they did at _Utrich_, But since they have with more severitie And scorne of us proceeded. Monsieur _Barnavelt_ Walkes with a thousand eies and guards upon him, And has at best a painted libertie; Th'Appollogie he wroat so poorely raild at, (For answeard at no part a man can call it) And all his life and Actions so detracted, That he, as I am certenly informed, Lookes every howre for worsse.

_Gro_. Come, come, they dare not, Or if they should I will not suffer it; I that have without dread ever maintaind The freedom I was borne to, against all That ever have provoakd me, will not feare What this old Grave or the new Prince of _Orange_ Dare undertake beyond this, but will rise up And if he lay his hands on _Barnavelt_, His Court, our Guift, and where the generall States Our equalls sit ile fry[175] about their eares And quench it in their blood. What now I speake Againe ile speake alowd; let who will tell it, I never will fly from it.

_Hog_. What you purpose I will not fly from.

_Gro_. Back you then to _Leyden_, Ile keep at _Roterdam_: there if he fetch me Ile nere repent whatever can fall on me.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 6.

_Enter Leidenberch & Boy_.

_Boy_. Shall I help you to bed, Sir, [_Taper, pen & inke: Table_.

_Leid_. No, my Boy, not yet.

_Boy_. 'Tis late and I grow sleepie.

_Leid_. Goe to bed then, For I must wryte, my Childe.

_Boy_. I had rather watch, Sir, If you sitt up, for I know you will wake me.

_Leid_. Indeed I will not; goe, I have much to doe; Prethee to bed; I will not waken thee.

_Boy_. Pray, Sir, leave wryting till to morrow.

_Leid_. Why, Boy?

_Boy_. You slept but ill last night, and talkd in your sleep, too; Tumbled and tooke no rest.

_Leid_. I ever doe soe. Good Boy, to bed; my busines is of waight And must not be deferrd: good night, sweet Boy.

_Boy_. My father was not wont to be so kind To hug me and to kisse me soe.

_Leid_. Why do'st thou weep?

_Boy_. I cannot tell, but sure a tendernes, Whether it be with your kind words unto me Or what it is, has crept about my hart, Sir, And such a sodaine heavynes withall, too.

_Leid_.--Thou bringst fitt mourners for my funerall.

_Boy_. But why do you weep, father?

_Leid_. O, my Boy, Thy teares are dew-drops, sweet as those on roses, But mine the faint and yron sweatt of sorrow. Prethee, sweet Child, to bed; good rest dwell with thee, And heaven returne a blessing: that's my good Boy. [_Exit boy_. --How nature rises now and turnes me woman When most I should be man! Sweet hart, farewell, Farewell for ever. When we get us children We then doe give our freedoms up to fortune And loose that native courage we are borne to. To dye were nothing,--simply to leave the light; No more then going to our beds and sleeping; But to leave all these dearnesses behind us, These figures of our selves that we call blessings, Is that which trobles. Can man beget a thing That shalbe deerer then himself unto him? --Tush, _Leidenberch_: thinck what thou art to doe; Not to play _Niobe_ weeping ore her Children, Unles that _Barnavelt_ appeere againe And chide thy dull-cold nature.--He is fast: [_Son abed_. Sleepe on, sweet Child, the whilst thy wreatched father Prepares him to the yron sleepe of death. Or is death fabled out but terrable To fright us from it? or rather is there not Some hid _Hesperides_, some blessed fruites Moated about with death. Thou soule of _Cato_, And you brave _Romaine_ speritts, famous more For your true resolutions on yourselves Then Conquest of the world, behold, and see me An old man and a gowne man, with as much hast And gladnes entertaine this steele that meetes me As ever longing lover did his mistris. --So, so; yet further; soe.

_Boy within_. Oh!

_Leid_. Sure the Boy wakes And I shalbe prevented.

_Boy_. Now heaven blesse me. O me, O me!

_Leid_. He dreames and starts with frightings. I bleed apace but cannot fall: tis here; This will make wider roome. Sleep, gentle Child, And do not looke upon thy bloody father, Nor more remember him then fitts thy fortune. --Now shoot your spightes, now clap on all your councells; Here is a constant frend will not betray me. I, now I faint; mine eies begin to hunt For that they have lost for ever, this worldes beutie-- O oh, ô oh! my long sleepe now has ceizd me.

_Enter Boy_.

_Boy_. I heard him groane and cry; I heard him fall sure. O, there he lyes in his owne blood! ô father, O my deare father, dead and bequeathd no blessing! Why did I goe to bed, why was I heavy? O, I will never sleep againe. The house there! You that are verteous rise! you that have fathers! Ho, Master _Provost_! ô my deerest father. Some Surgeons, Surgeons!

_Enter Provost & Servts_.

_Prov_. 'Twas the Boyes voice, certaine.

_Ser_. What bloody sight is this? 'has killd himself: Dead, stone-cold dead; he needs no art of Surgeons.

_Prov_. Take of the Boy.

_Boy_. O let me dwell here ever.

_Prov_. This was a fatall stroak, to me a heavy, For my remissnes wilbe loaden with it. Bring in the Boy; ile to the State instantly; Examine all the wounds and keep the knives; The Boy fast too,--may be he knowes some circumstance.

_Boy_. O that I never knew againe.

_Prov_. In with it.

[_Exeunt_.

Actus Quartus.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Captaine[176] and Soldiers_.

_Cap_. Are the Horses left where I appointed 'em, And all the Soldiers ready?

_Sold_. They are all, Captaine.

_Cap_. 'Tis well: _Modesbargen_ is abroad, for certaine, Hunting this morning.

_Sold_. Tis most likely, Sir; For round about the Castle, since the dawning, We have heard the merry noyse of hornes.

_Cap_. Dispeirce then, Except some three or foure to watch the Castle Least he break in againe. What Company Have ye discoverd that attends him?

_Sold_. Few, Sir: I do not thinck he has five within the fort now Able to make resistaunce.

_Cap_. Let 'em be twenty We are strong enough to fright 'em; and by all meanes Let those that stay seek by some trick or other To make the Bridge good, that they draw it not If he returne upon us.

_Sold_. With all care, Sir. [_Exeunt.--Hornes_.

_Enter Modes-bargen & Huntsmen_[177].

_Mod_. The doggs have hunted well this dewy morning, And made a merry cry.

1 _Hunt_. The Hare was rotten[178]; You should have heard els such a rore, and seene 'em Make all hir dobles out with such neat hunting And run at such a merry rate togeather, They should have dapled ore your bay with fome, Sir.

_Mod_. 'Tis very well, and so well I affect it That I could wish I had nere hunted after Any delight but this, nor sought more honour. This is securely safe, drawes on no danger, Nor is this Chace crost with malignant envy. How sweatly do I live and laugh upon The perrills I have past, the plotts and traynes! And now (methincks) I dare securely looke on The steepe and desprat follyes my indiscretion Like a blind careles foole had allmost cast me on. Here I stand saffe 'gainst all their strengths and Stratagems: I was a boy, a foole to follow _Barnavelt_, To step into his attempts, to wedd my freedom To his most dangerous faction, a meere Coxcomb; But I have scapd their clawes.--Have ye found more game?

_Enter 2 Huntesmen_[179].

2 _Hunt_. Beating about to find a new Hare, we discoverd--

_Mod_. Discoverd what?

2 _Hunt_. Horsemen, and't please ye, Sir, Scowt round about us, and which way still the doggs went They made up within view.

_Mod_. Look't they like Soldiers?

2 _Hunt_. For certaine they are Soldiers; for if theis are eyes I saw their pistolls.

_Mod_. Many?

2 _Hunt_. Some half a score, Sir.

_Mod_. I am betraide: away and raise the Boores up, Bid 'em deale manfully.

1 _Hunt_. Take a close way home And clap your spurres on roundly.

_Mod_. No place safe for me! This Prince has long armes, and his kindled anger A thousand eyes--Make hast and raise the Cuntry.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Captn & Soldiers_.

_Cap_. This was a narrow scape; he was ith' feild, sure.

_Sold_. Yes, that was certaine he that ridd of by us, When we stood close ith' brakes.

_Cap_. A devill take it! How are we cozend! pox of our goodly providence! If he get home or if the Cuntry know it!

_Sold_. Make haste, he is yet unmand: we may come time enough To enter with him. Besides there's this advantage: They that are left behind, instead of helping A Boores Cart ore the Bridge, loden with hay, Have crackt the ax-tree with a trick, and there it stands And choakes the Bridge from drawing.

_Cap_. There's some hope yet. Away and clap on spurs: he shall scape hardly If none of us salute him. Mounte, mounte.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Modesbargen & Huntesmen_.

_Mod_. Hell take this hay! 'tis set on purpose here: Fire it and draw the Bridge: clap faggotts on't And fire the Cart and all. No Boores come in yet? Where be your Musketts, Slaves?

_Hunt_. We have no powder, Sir.

_Mod_. You have sold me, Rogues, betrayd me: fire the Cart, I say, Or heave it into th' Moat.

_Hunt_. We have not men enough. Will ye goe in? the Cuntry will rise presently, And then you shall see, Sir, how wee'll buckle with 'em.

_Mod_. I see I am undon: the[180] hay choakes all, I cannot get beside it.

_Enter Captaine & Soldiers_.

_Cap_. Stir not a foote, For he that do's has mett his preist.--Goe, ceize his body, But hurt him not. You must along with us, Sir: We have an easie nag will swym away with ye,-- You ghesse the cause, I am sure. When you are ith' saddle once, Let your Boores loose; we'll show 'em such a baste. Do not deiect yourself nor rayle at fortune; They are no helpes: thincke what you have to answeare.

_Mod_. Captaine, within this Castle in ready coyne I have a thousand ducketts: doe me one curtesie, It shalbe brought out presently.

_Cap_. What is it? For I have use of money.

_Mod_. Doe but shoot me, Clap both your Pistolls into me.

_Cap_. No, I thanck ye, I know a trick worth ten o'that: ile love ye And bring ye to those men that love to see ye. Away, away; and keepe your pistolls spand still: We may be forced.

_Mod_. I am undon for ever.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

_Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort_.

_Bred_. Is't possible he should be so far tempted[181] To kill himself?

_Vand_. 'Has don it and most desperately, Nor could strong nature stay his hand,--his owne Child That slept beside him: which showes him guilty, lords, More then we suspected.

_Or_. 'Tis to be feard soe And therefore, howsoere I movd your lordships To a mild and sweet proceeding in this busines, That nothing might be construde in't malitious And make the world believe our owne ends wrought it, Now it concernes ye to put on more strictnes And with seveerer eyes to looke into it: Ye robb yourselves of your owne rightes els, Justice, And loose those pious names your Cuntries safeties. And sodainely this must be don and constantly: The powrs ye hold els wilbe scornd & laughd at, And theis unchristian stroakes be laid to your charge.

_Bred_. Your Grace goes right; but with what generall safetie (For ther's the mayne point), if we proceed seveerely May this be don? We all know how much followed And with what swarmes of love this Mounsieur _Barnavelt_ Is courted all the Cuntry over. Besides, at _Leyden_ We heare how _Hogerbeets_ behaves himself, And how he stirrs the peoples harts against us. And _Grotius_ has byn heard to say, and openly, (A man of no meane mark nor to be slighted) That if we durst imprison _Barnavelt_ He would fire the Court and State-house, and that Sacrifize He would make more glorious with your blood and ours, Sir.

_Vand_. All angers are not armd; the lowdest Channell Runs shallowest, and there betrayes his weaknes: The deep & silent man threatens the danger.

_Or_. If they had equall powre to man their wills And hope, to fling their miseries upon us, I that nere feard an Army in the feild, A body of most choice and excellent Soldiers And led by Captaines honourd for experience: Can I feare them or shake at their poore whispers? I that have broke the beds of Mutenies And bowde againe to faire obedience Those stubborne necks that burst the raynes of order, Shall I shrinck now and fall, shot with a rumour? No, my good Lords, those vollyes never fright me; Yet, not to seeme remisse or sleep secure here, I have taken order to prevent their angers; I have sent Patents[182] out for the choicest Companies Hether to be remov'd: first, Collonell _Veres_ From _Dort_; next Sir _Charles Morgans_, a stowt Company; And last my Cosens, the Count _Ernests_ Company: With theis I doubt not to make good our busines; They shall not find us babes.

_Bred_. You are nobely provident.

_Vand_. And now proceed when it please you, and what you thinck fit We shall subscribe to all.

_Or_. I thanck your Honours. Call in the Captaine of my Guard.

_Serv_. Hee's here, Sir.

_Enter Captaine_.

_Or_. Harck in your eare.

_Cap_. I shall, Sir.

_Or_. Doe it wisely And without tumult.

_Cap_. I observe your Grace.

_Or_. Now take your rest, my lords: for what care followes Leave it to me.

_All_. We wish it all succes, Sir.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter Barnavelt (in his studdy)_.

_Bar_. This from the King of _Fraunce_, of much importance, And this from _Englands_ Queene, both mightie Princes And of immortall memories: here the Rewards sett,-- They lou'd me both. The King of _Swechland_ this, About a Truyce; his bounty, too. What's this? From the Elector Palatine of _Brandenburge_, To doe him faire and acceptable offices: I did so; a rich iewell and a chaine he sent me. The Count of _Solems_, and this from his faire Countess About compounding of a busines: I did it and I had their thancks. Count _Bentham_, The Archbishop of _Cullen_, Duke of _Brunswick_, Grave _Embden_: theis from Citties, theis from Provinces; Petitions theis; theis from the States for places. Have I held correspondence with theis Princes, And had their loves, the molding of their busines, Trusted with their most secreat purposes? Of every State acquainted with the misteries? And must I stick here now, stick unreleevd, too? Must all theis glories vanish into darknes, And _Barnavelt_ passe with 'em and glide away Like a spent exhalation? I cannot hold; I am crackt too deepe alredy. What have I don I cannot answeare? Foole! remember not Fame has too many eares and eyes to find thee! What help, ô miserable man? none left thee. What constant frends? 'tis now a cryme to know thee ... ... ... be death.

_Enter Servant_.

_Serv_. My Lady would entreat, Sir--

_Bar_. My head? What art thou? from whom sent?

_Serv_. Heaven blesse me!

_Bar_. Are they so greedy of my blood?--O, pardon me: I know thee now; thou art my honest Servant. What would thy Lady?

_Serv_. Your Company to supper, Sir.

_Bar_. I cannot eate; I am full alredy, tell hir: Bid hir sitt downe: full, full, too full. [_Exit Serv_. My thancks Poyzd equally with those faire services I have done the States, I should walk confidently Upon this high-straind danger. O, this end swayes me, A heavy bad opinion is fixt here That pulls me of; and I must downe for ever.

_Enter Daughter_[183]

_Daught_. Sir, will it please ye--

_Bar_. Ha!

_Daught_. Will it please ye, Sir--

_Bar_. Please me! what please me?--that I send thee, Girle, To some of my great Masters to beg for me. Didst thou meane so?

_Daught_. I meane, Sir--

_Bar_. Thou art too charitable To prostitute thy beutie to releeve me; With thy soft kisses to redeeme from fetters The stubborne fortune of thy wretched father.

_Daught_. I understand ye not.

_Bar_. I hope thou do'st not.

_Daught_. My Lady Mother, Sir--

_Bar_. Prethee, good Girle, Be not so cruell to thy aged father To somme up all his miseries before him.

_Daught_. I come, Sir, to entreat your Company.

_Bar_. I am not alone.

_Daught_. My Mother will not eate, Sir. --What fitt is this!

_Bar_. There can be no attonement: I know the Prince: _Vandort_ is fleshd upon me, And _Bredero_, though he be of noble nature, Dare not step in. Wher's my Son _William_? His Goverment is gon, too; and the Soldier, O, the falce Soldier! What! wouldst thou have a husband? Goe, marry an English Captaine, and hee'll teach thee How to defy thy father and his fortune.-- I cannot eate; I have no stomach, Girle.

_Daught_. Good Sir, be patient.

_Bar_. No news from _Grotius_? No flow of frends there? _Hoger-beets_ lye still, too? --Away: ile come anon.

_Daught_. Now heaven preserve ye! [_Exit_.

_Bar_. A gentle Girle: why should not I pray, too? I had nere more need. When I am sett and gon, What understanding can they stick up then To fill the place I bore? None, not a man: To traffick with Great Princes? none: to deale With all the trobles of the war? None, certaine, no man: To bring in daylie treasure? I know no man; They cannot pick a man made up to serve 'em. Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly before Myne owne weake thoughts?--Art thou there, too?

_Enter Wife[184] and Daughter_.

_Wife_. Fy, fy, Sir: Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirements To choake your speritts? You have studied long enough To serve the uses of those men that scorne ye; 'Tis time you take your ease now.

_Bar_. I shall shortly; An everlasting ease, I hope.

_Wife_. Why weep ye, My deere Sir? speak.

_Bar_. Never till now unhappie! Thy fruit there and my fall ripen togeather And fortune gives me heires of my disgraces.

_Wife_. Take nobler thoughts.

_Bar_. What will becom of thee, Wiffe, When I am gon? When they have gorgd their envies With what I have, what honest hand in pitty Will powre out to thy wants? What noble eye Will looke upon my Children strooke with miserie And say 'you had a father that I honourd; For his sake be my Brothers and my Sisters.'

_Wife_. There cannot be such crueltie.

_Bar_. I hope not; Yet what so confident Sailour that heares the Sea rore, The winds sing lowd and dreadfull, the day darkend, But he will cry 'a storme'! downe with his Canvas And hull, expecting of that horrid feavour?

_Enter Son_.

--How now? What newes?

_Son_. Plucke up your hart, Sir, fairely And wither not away thus poorely from us; Be now secure: the myst ye feard is vanishd,-- _Leidenberch's_ dead.

_Bar_. Dead?

_Son_. Killd himself; his owne hand Most bravely was his Justice; nor left behind him One peece of paper to dishonour ye. They are all to seeke now for their Accusations.

_Bar_. And is he dead? so timely, too? so truly? Speak't againe, _Will_?

_Son_. Hee's dead, Sir, if I live here.

_Bar_. And his owne hand?

_Son_. His hand and will performd it.

_Bar_. Give me some wyne. I find now, notwithstanding [_Enter Servant with wine_. The opposition of those mindes that hate me, A wise-man spyns his owne fate and secures it. Nor can I, that have powre to perswade men dye, Want living frends to iustifie my Creadit. Goe in and get me meat now; invyte my frends, I am determind to be high and merry. Thou hast lost thy Charge; wee'll have another, _Will_; It shall goe hard els. The Prince of _Orange_ now Will find what frends I have, and of what reckning; And when he seekes this life, he must make passage Through thousands more and those he little dreames of.

_Son_. I wonder how he got that speritt, Sir, to dye soe?

_Bar_. He was a weak man, indeed, but he has redeemd it: There be some other I could wish of his mind. Do'st thinck they dare doe any thing now.

_Son_. 'Troth, I thinck not, Sir.

_Bar_. No, Boy, I warrant thee; they make great soundes, But mark what followes. Prethee, let's be merry, I want it much.

_Son_. I am glad to see you so, Sir.

_Enter Servant_.

_Bar_. I cannot be above two daies from Councell, I know their wants. How now, what haste?

_Serv_. O, Sir, ye are undon; We have lost ye.

_Bar_. Ha!

_Serv_. For ever lost ye.

_Bar_. Why?

[_Serv_.] The Captaine of the Guard, the Princes Captaine--

_Bar_. Where? how?

_Enter Wife & Daughter_.

_Serv_. Is broken in now upon us.

_Wife_. He will not be denyde. O, my deare Husband! The cruell Princes Captaine!

[_Captaine within_.

_Cap_. Ope the dore; Wee'll force it els, and all that dare resist us Wee'll put to th'Sword.

_Bar_. Open the dore: farewell, Wiffe; Goe to the French Embassadour presently; There's all my hope. To him make knowne my misery, Wooe him with teares, with praires: this kisse; be happie.

_Wife_. O, we shall never see ye more!

[_Exeunt Wife and Daughter_.

_Enter Captaine & others_.

_Bar_. Away!-- You Instrument of blood, why doe ye seeke us? I have knowne the day you have wayted like a suppliant And those knees bended as I past. Is there no reverence Belonging to me left now, that like a Ruffian Rudely ye force my lodgings? No punishment Due to a cryme of that fowle nature?

_Cap_. You must pardon me, I have commission, Sir, for what I offer, And from those men that are your Masters, too; At least you'll find 'em soe. You must shift your lodging, And presently: I have a charge to see ye Yeild yourself quietly.

_Bar_. Goe and tell their Lordships I will attend to-morrow. I know my time And how to meet their mallice without guards. This is the Prince, the cruell Prince your Master, The thirstie Prince of this poore Life.

_Cap_. Be not vext; That will not help ye, Sir.

_Bar_. I wilbe vext, And such an anger I will fling amongst 'em Shall shake the servile soules of these poore wretches That stick his slight deservings above mine. I charge ye draw your Guard off and disperce 'em: I have a powre as full as theirs.

_Cap_. You'll find not; And I must have ye with me.

_Bar_. And am I subiect That have stood the brunt of all their busines, And when they slept watcht to secure their slombers,-- Subiect to slights, to scornes, to taynts, to tortures? To feed one privat mallice am I betrayd? Myne age, myne honour and my honest dealing Sold to the hangmans Sword?

_Cap_. I cannot stay.

_Bar_. Take me And glory in my blood, you most ungratefull; Feed your long bloody hopes and bath your angers In _Barnavelts_ deservings; share my Services; Let it be death to pitty me; to speak well of me, The ruyn of whole famylies. When I am gon And angry war againe shall ceize your Cuntry, Too late remember then and cursse your follyes. --I am ready. Farwell, Son; remember me But not my fortune; let them cry that shall want me.

_Cap_. No man come neere on paine of death: away with him.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 4.

_Enter Orange & 1 Captaine_.[185]

_Cap_. And as I told your Highnes, so wee tooke him.

_Or_. 'Twas with discretion and valour followd. You were not noted as you made entraunce Into the _Hague_?

_Cap_. No, Sir; 'twas about midnight, And few were stirring but the Guard.

_Or_. The better. Let his being brought in be still conceald, and tell him If uncompelld he will confes the truth At _Barnavelts_ Arraignement, that all favour That I can wyn him shall prepare a way To quallifie his fault.

_Cap_. Ile work him to it And doubt not.

_Enter Burgers & Women with bowghs & flowres_.

_Cap_. 'Tis Kramis[186]-time, In which it is a custome with the people To deck their dores with Garlonds, Bowghes, and flowres That are most gratious.

_Or_. I remember. --Stand close.

[1] _Burg_. Strew, strew: more Garlonds and more Flowres. Up with the Bowghes! Sacramant, I will have My noble frends house, Mounseiur _Barnavelts_, As well deckt as his Excellencies Court, For though they have got him in prison he deserves As well as any.

_Cap_. Mark you that.

2 _Burg_. 'Tis said They will cutt of his head.

1 _Burg_. Much![187] with a Cusshin! They know he has too many frends.

[2] _Burg_. They dare not. People will talke: I hope ere long to see him As great as ever.

[1] _Burg_. Greater too, I doubt not, And of more powre; his feet upon the necks Of all his Enemies.

_Or_. I am glad I heard this; And _Barnavelt_ shall feele I will make use oft. Come; follow me. [_Exeunt_.

2 _Burg_. So, now the merry Song We made for his good Lady. Lustique,[188] hoa!

[Song.

_Enter Wife above_.

_Wife_. All thancks, kind frends, that a sad house can give ye Pray you receive; for I rest well assurd, Though theis sports are unseasonable here, They testifie your loves; and, if my Lord Ere live to be himself againe, I know He will remember it.

1 _Burg_. Now for the Daunce, Boyes.

_Wife_. Ther's something for your paines: drinck it, I pray.

2 _Burg_. To a doyt, my vroa, to thy Lords health and thyne. The Bree[189] for his Excellencie and the Heeres That love him not. Ten hundred thousand blessings To him and thee, my vroa. [_Daunce_.

_Wife_. I thanck you, frend. [_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 5.

_Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort, William, Lords. [Table_.

_Vand_. Let him be sent for presently: he shall know, [_A Bar brought in_. Were he ten times more popular, his frends And flatterers Centuple, the Sword of Justice Shall fall on him as on the meanest man Since he deserves it.

_Enter Provost, Captaines & Guard with Barnavelt_.

_Pro_. Make roome for the Prisoner.

_Bar_. My dutie to your Highnes and theis Princes And an increase of wisdome to your Lordships, For which the world admires you, I wish to you. Alas, what troble do's a weake old man, (That is, being out of all imployment, useles) The bag of his deserts, too, cast behind you, Impose upon this Senat? My poore life (Which others envy makes your Instruments To fight against) will hardly be a Conquest Worthie such great performers.

_Vand_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, 'Tis no mans envy that hath brought us hether To sitt as Judges on you, but your owne. Your owne late actions they have raisd a war Against your former merritts, and defeated What ever then was ranckt for good and great, For which your Enemies, those that you thought frends, Triumph, not wee.

_Bre_. We rather wish you could Acquitt yourself of that for which we have Too evident prooffes, then labour to intrap you.

_Bar_. I must beleeve and suffer whatsoever Your Lordships charge me with: yet would gladly heare What my faultes are.

_Vand_. Read the Confessions Of _Leidenberch_ and _Taurinus_.

_Bar_. _Leidenberch_!

_Officer reads_. First, that the _Arminian_ faction (of which Sir _John Van Olden Barnavelt_, late Advocate of _Holland_ and _West Frizeland_ and Councellor of State, was without contradiction the head) had resolved and agreed to renounce and break the generallity and unitie of the State.

Secondly, Change and alter the Religion, and to that end, without the Consent of the Generall States, had raysed up and dispeirsed 3000 Arminian Soldiers.

Thirdly, To degrade the Prince of _Orange_.

Fourthly, To massacre the people of the Townes which were their greatest Enemies or offered resistaunce.

Fiftly, yf that fayled, to take in assistaunce of some forreigne Potentates, as _Spaine_ or _Brabant_, delivering unto them _Utricht, Nunweghen, Bergen op Zone_, and the _Brill_--

_Bar_. And that, with others, this was _Barnavelts_ purpose? For so your Lordships take it.

_Bred_. With good reason.

_Vand_. Too many and strong proofes invyting us To creadit it.

_Bar_. Yf you will have them such, All truth I can bring to dyvert your Lordships From your determinate opinion that way Will not remove them. Yet 'tis strange that man Should labour to devide those Generall States That had no weak hand in unyting them,-- That _Barnavelt_ (a name you have remembered When you have thought by whom you were mad happie)-- That _Barnavelt_ (alowd I dare repeat it), Who, when there was Combustion in the State, Your Excellence, Grave _William_ and Count _Henrie_, Taking instructions for your Commaunds From one that then ruld all; the Provinces Refucing to bring in their Contributions And arguing whether the West _Frizelander_ And _Hollander_ had powre to raise such Tribut, When many of the Governours stood ill Affected to you, all our Garrisons Not sworne then to the Generall States but others, Which the promiscuous multitude gladly followed: When _Graves_ and _Vendloe_ were held by the _Spaniard_ And _Nunweghen_ with violence assaulted, Confusion with one greedy gripe being ready To seaze on all; then when the _Sluice_ was lost And all in muteny at _Midleborough_, Who then rose up or durst step in before me To doe these Cuntries service? Who then labourd More then the now suspected _Barnavelt_ T'appease seditions and compound all Quarrells? Who pacified the Malcontents? Who taught you To stand upon your Guards and trust yourselves? O, you forgettfull, all this I performd And in the golden fagot of faire Concord Bound safely up those strengthes which Mutenies, Corruption and homebred Traitors scatterd.

_Vand_. This is a point you often choose to treat of, And yet some part of theis good services None will deny you.

_Or_. But to ingrosse all Would argue me your ward, should I give way too't, And these grave Lords your Schollers.

_Bar_. In the Art Of Goverment they scornd not once to be soe, Nor you to give me hearing: and if ever 'Twer lawful th' unthanckfull men t'upbraid Unequall benefitts, let it not in me Be now held glorious if I speake my best. I have five times in regall Embassies Byn sent the principall Agent for theis Cuntries, And for your good have spoken face to face With mightie Kings: twyce with that virgin Queene, Our Patronesse of happie memory, _Elizabeth_ of _England_; twyce in _Fraunce_ With that invincible King that worthely (Though dead) is still'd the _Great, Henry_ the _fourth_; Once with the King of _Britaine_ that now is: Yet let my greatest Enemy name the least Of theis so high Imployments in which I Treated without advantage, and returnd not With proffitt, as with honour, to my Cuntry, And let me fall beneath the worst aspersion His mallice can throw on me. Besides Soldiers So often levied by my meanes for you, Which to particularize were teadious, Two millions and five hundred thousand pounds, For which the Provinces stood bound, I wrought Freely to be dischargd; the Townes they pawnd To be deliverd up; and after all Theis meritorious and prosperous travells T'unyte theis States, can _Barnavelt_ be suspected To be the authour to undoe that knot Which with such toyle he fastend[190].

_Or_. Pawse, I beseech you, And while you gather breath to fill the Trumpet Of your deserts give me leave to deliver A litle for the States and mine owne honour. We have heard a glorious Catalogue of your vertues But not one vice or slip of yours rememberd; But I will help your memory:--who was he That gave intelligence of my sodaine comming To surprize _Antwerpe_? They that brought the Letters Were knowne and but from you could have no notice Of any such design. Who hinderd me From rescuing of _Rheinberch_ in the last Seige? Who warranted the yeilding of it up Without necessitie to the Governour? Who was the cause no greater powre was sent Against the Enemie when he past the Rhine And tooke the Townes of _Oldensell, Lingen, Groll_? To thinck of this would give a litle vent To the windy bladder of your vanitie Which you have blowne to an unlymitted vastnes. Your Insolence to me before the Battaile Of _Flaunders_ I forget[191].-- Call in _Modesbargen_.

_Bar_. [aside[192]] He a prisoner, too! Then I am lost.

_Enter Captaine with Modesbargen_.

_Or_. Ha! do's that startle you?

_Bar_. [aside[192]] I must collect myself.

_Or_. You shall heare more.

_Modesb_. O, Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, do we meet thus? I am as sorry to behold you there As know myself a Prisoner. Now you perceive To what a desperate state your headlong Counsells And rash designes have brought us: to stand out now Were to no purpose, for, alas, they have Too pregnant prooffes against us.

_Bar_. You that feele The horrour of fowle guilt in your falce bosom Confes yourself soe; my strong Inocence To the death stands constant.

_Or_. Take _Modesbargen_ in.

[_Exit Cap. and Modesb_.]

_Vand_. This is an impudence I never read of. But now wee'll show thee, miserable man, Such further prooffes as would call up a blush Upon the devills cheeke. Looke upon this, Signd by the Governor, Chauncellor and Counsell Of _Gilderland_ and _Zutphen_, who here name thee The roote and head of the late Schisme.

_Bred_. And this Sent from the Lords of _Utrecht_, where 'tis prov'd That the new Companies were raisd by you, And to what purpose.

_William_. To subvert Religion, To deface Justice and to breake the union And holly League betweene the _Provinces_.

[_Henry_.[193] The Proclamations are allowd by you Sent forth against the Protestants; and here Your resolution to degrade my Brother And then dispose of him as you thought fitt.]

_Vand_. Your plott here to withdraw all the old Soldiers From the Commandement of the States, and wyn them To serve for your ends in a Civill war.

_Bred_. To raise up Cittizen against Cittizen, Stranger gainst stranger, Soldier against Soldier, And Maiestrates against the Maiestrates.

_Or_. To waste the Land within that with lesse danger The forraigne Enemy might make his entraunce. Yf then this be not treacherie beyond All presidents of Traitours--

_Bar_. Give me Leave Onely to smile, then say all theis are falce, Your witnesses subornd, your testemonies And wrytings forgd, and this elaborate forme Of Justice to delude the world a cover For future practises: this I affirme Upon my soule[194]. Now when you please condempne me: I will not use one sillable for your mercy To have mine age renewd and once againe To see a second triumph of my glories. You rise, and I grow tedious; let me take My farwell of you yet, and at the place Where I have oft byn heard; and, as my life Was ever fertile of good councells for you, It shall not be in the last moment barren. _Octavius_[195], when he did affect the Empire And strove to tread upon the neck of _Rome_ And all hir ancient freedoms, tooke that course[196] That now is practisd on you; for the _Catos_ And all free sperritts slaine or els proscribd That durst have stir'd against him, he then sceasd The absolute rule of all. You can apply this[197]: And here I prophecie I, that have lyvd And dye a free man, shall when I am ashes Be sensible of your groanes and wishes for me; And when too late you see this Goverment Changd to a Monarchie[198] youll howle in vaine And wish you had a _Barnavelt_ againe. Now lead me where you will: a speedy Sentence: I am ready for it and 'tis all I ask you.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Quintus_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Wife, Daughter, Servant with Peares_.

_Wife_. Denyde to see my Husband! ô you Tirants! And (to increase my misery) in vaine By heaven I kneeld for't, wept and kneeld in vaine To such as would, while _Barnavelt_ was himself-- But why do I remember that word 'was,' That never happie word of 'was.'

_Serv_. Good Madam, Beare (with your usuall wisdom) what is not In you to help. The strict guard's kept upon him; His State ceizd on; my Lord your Son disgracd, too, And all your frends suspected, may assure you No price beneath his head must answeare for him.

_Daughter_. But is he not alredy dead?

_Wife_. I, I, There lyes my feare.

_Serv_. I sweare to you I saw him Not many howres since, and hundreds more; But yet, as one that's bound to honour him, I had rather have had assuraunce of his death Than so to have seen him.

_Both_. Why?

_Serv_. I have followd him When every step he made met a Petition, And these, that are his Judges now, like Clyents Have wayted on him. The whole Court attended When he was pleasd to speake, and, with such murmours As glad Spectators in a Theater Grace their best Actors with, they ever heard him; When to have had a sight of him was held A prosperous omen; when no eye gazd on him That was not filld with admiration, not As now with scorne or pitty. His rude Guard, For proofe that they contempne all such as ayme Or hope for his release (as if he were Some prodigie or monster), each night show him To such as greive his fortune, which must be To him worse then ten thousand deaths made horrid With all the actes of Crueltie.

_Daught_. I have hope yet To see an alteration.

_Wife_. My good Servant, He has some frends left yet and powerfull ones That can doe more then weepe for him as we doe; Those I will strayt sollicite. In the meane time, That to his comfort he may know so much, Endeavour thou to have this simple present As from thy self sent to him.

_Serv_. I will hazard All that can fall upon me to effect it.

[_Exeunt[199] Wife and Daughter_.

_Enter Provost & Guard_.

_Pro_. What makes this fellow here? Whether would ye, Sir?

_Serv_. Sir, to desire accesse unto my Lord Were to ask that I know must be denide, And therefore I forbeare it; but intreating What cannot wrong you in the graunt, I hope To find you curteous.

_Pro_. What's the Suit?

_Serv_. This onely: My Lord, your prisoner, for my service gave me A poore house with an Orchard in the Cuntry. The fruites of which he did not scorne to taste of In th'height of his prosperitie; but of all That pleasd his pallat there was one faire tree, On which theis Peares grew, which by his appointment Were still reservd for him, and as a Rent Due for my Living I stood bound to tender. Theis, yf you please, the last I shall pay to him, I would present him with, by what Attorney Your goodnes shall prescribe me.

_Prov_. They are faire Peares, Exceeding faire ones: ile make bold with one, The rest beare to him.

_Serv_. [aside[200]] All wilbe discoverd, I am glad I am got off, yet. [_Exit_.

_Enter Provosts Wife_[201].

_Prov_. What make you here? Do you come to traile a pike or use a Musket?

_Wife_. For neither, Sir; I came to see you.

_Pro_. Home! This is no place for women. To your Gossips! This burthen would become a Chamber better.

_Wife_. 'Tis a faire Peare.

_Prov_. You long for't: pray you take it, You are priviledgd now to beg.--Ha! charmes in't? stay, Give mee't. I would not for a thousand dollars This had byn undiscoverd. Pray you goe home; At night ile see you.

_Wife_. You know my obedience And I must practise it.

_Prov_. Make out for the fellow That came with this device. 'Twas queintly carried: The stalke pluckt cleanly out, and in the quill This scroll conveyd. What ere it be the Prince Shall instantly peruse it.

_Enter Orange, Wm., Vandort, Bredero_.

_Or_. How came you by this?

_Prov_. I intercepted it in a dish of Peares Brought by a man of _Barnavelts_, but sent to him From some of better ranck.

_Or_. See what is written here,-- 'You have frends left and therefore, Sir, dispaire not.'

_Vand_. 'Tis this that feeds his Insolence, theis are they That, when they should have paid their prairs for him As for a guilty man, adoarnd his house In the dispight of us and of our Justice.

_Bred_. But such shall find their flattering breath but makes The fire, our Cuntries safetie byds us cherish, To burne with greater heate.

_Vand_. And so consume him.

_Or_. The freedom of our goverment, and our honours, And what we dare doe now lies at the stake. The better part of all the christian world Marks our proceedings, and it wilbe said, Yf having the Conspirators in our powre We sentence none of them, being convincd, too, Of fowre and thirtie Articles and each treason, 'Tis don for feare. Then, to affright the rest, I hold it fitt that _Barnavelt_, one that has Most frends and meanes to hurt, and will fall therefore With greater terror, should receive his Sentence, Then dye as he deserves. For _Modesbargen_ And _Hogerbeets_ we shall find fitt time to Thinck of them hereafter.

_Bred_. Let him be sent for.

_Vand_. In the meane time 'tis fit we should give hearing To the _French_ Embassadors, who, I know, come now To mediat for him.

_Bred_. Wayt upon them in: Their Propositions shalbe answeard freely, And by such men as are their frends, not Servants.

_Enter Boisise, Morier, Wife, Daughter, Attendants_.

_Boi_[202]. We will plead for him and prevaile, we doubt not. Take comfort therefore, Madam, and a while, Since you are not to be admitted here, Leave us to our endeavors.

_Wife_. Heaven direct And prosper theis your charitable traviles.

[_Exeunt Wife & Daughter_.

_Or_. Bring Chaires there for their Lordships.

[_2 Chaires_.

_Vand_.[203] And prepare them A sylent hearing.

_Bois_. My good Lords, We are commaunded by the King our Master (Who ever hath respected your affaires As the tranquility of his owne kingdoms) To let you thus far understand his pleasure: He do's exhort you, as the best foundation Of your estate, with all care to preserve The union of your provinces, and wishes The change that you have made of Maiestrates, The Advocate and Counsellors of State In many of your Townes, breed not dissentions In steed of ceasing them. Touching your Prisoners That stand accusd of detestable Crymes, His Counsaile is, if they be culpable, That you use speedy Justice and with rigour.

_Mor_. Ever remembring that the greatest Princes Have sometimes to their glory byn most apt To pardon what was enterprizd against Their Goverments, nay their lives; and that the freest And the best Common-Wealthes, have alwaies usd To spare the blood of their owne Cittizens, And that in great offenders--it still being The principall signe of libertie and freedom Not easily, but with mature advice, To touch the lives of Cittizens.

_Bois_. And the rather When question is made of such as are Your officers placed in authoritie, Of whom the ancientst Mounsieur _Barnavelt_, So much commended for so many good And notable services don for theis Cuntries, Deserves most serious regard. My Master And other Kings & Princes your allyes, Lyving yet witnesses of his great meritts And with such admiration that they can Be hardly brought to thinck he should conspire Against these States, for which yourselves best know What travayles he hath undergon; and therefore Once more he do's advice you to use mercy, Which if you doe, he then shall thinck you merit The many favours you have tasted from him: Yf not, he having given you whollsom Counsaile, Yf you refuce it he must thinck himself Slighted in his requests; and then, perhaps, Hereafter you may misse that promptnes in him Which you have found when your wants most requird it.

_Vand_. May it please your Highnes in the names of all To make their Lordships answeare.

_Or_. Willingly; For I must still be glad to take occasion To speak how much your Lordships and myself Ever stand bound to that most Christian King Whose favours, with all thancks, we must acknowledge As with all care preserve. Onely we hope His Maiestie will give us leave to say We greive that he is misinformd of us And our proceedings, of which we hereafter Will give him certaine and unanswerable proofes To iustefie our Actions, which we will Make knowne to all the world; till when we wish He will be pleasd to give way to the States To finish what they have begon, with Justice Temperd with mercy; and that your good Lordships Will give his Grace to understand thus much, If with the generall voice you doe approve it.

_Bred_. We will confirme it with our generall Seale, And send our answeare to his Propositions With our respect and duties.

_Mor_. This we shall Make knowne unto him.

_Or_. Roome there for their Lordships.

[_Ext. Embs_.

_Bred_. What thinck you now, my Lords?

_Vand_. In my opinion 'Tis time he had his Sentence!

_Wm_. Is it drawne?

_Vand_. Yes, here it is. The peoples loves grow daungerous; In every place the whispers of his rescue; The lowd and common voice of his deservings Is floong abroad. Nor doe they handle theis things By rules of truth and reason, but their owne wills-- Their headstrong hott affections.

_Bred_. Is he sent for?

_Or_. Yes and will presently be here.

_Bred_. Sit downe then, And now with speedy Justice let's prepare To cutt off this Imposthume.

_Enter Provost & Guard, with Barnavelt_.

_Vand_. 'Tis high time, Sir.

_Prov_. Roome for the Prisoner!

_Vand_. Bring him in; Sit downe, Sir, And take your last place with us.

_Bar_. 'Tis your forme And I infringe no order.

_Bred_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, Will ye confes yet freely your bad practises And lay those Instruments open to the World, Those bloody and bold Instruments you wrought by? Mercy may sleepe awhile but never dyes, Sir.

_Bar_. I have spoake all I can, and seald that all With all I have to care for now, my Conscience. More I beseech your honours--

_Or_. Take your pleasure.

_Vand_. You will give us no more lights: What this world gives you, To morrow thus we take away. Receive it.

_Bar_. My Sentence?

_Vand_. Yes; consider for your soule now, And so farewell.

_Bar_. I humbly thanck your honours: I shall not play my last Act worst.

_Bred_. Heavens mercy And a still conscience wayt upon your end, Sir.

_Or_. Now guard him back againe: by the break of day You shall have order from us.

_Prov_. Roome for the Prisoner!--

[_Ext. Provost and Guard, with Barnavelt_.

_Or_. The world shall know that what's iust we dare doe.

_Vand_. Nor shall the desperate act of _Leidenberch_ Delude what we determind. Let his Coffin Be therefore hangd up on the publique Gallowes. Th'Executioners like hungry vultures Have smelld out their imployment.

_Or_. Let them have it: And all that plot against the generall good Learne from this mans example, great in age, Greater in wealth and in authoritie, But matchles in his worldly pollicie, That there is one above that do's deride The wisest counsailes that are misaplide.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

_Enter Harlem, Leyden & Utrecht Executioners_.

_Har_. Now hard and sharpe, for a wager, who shall doe it. Here's a Sword would doe a man's head good to be cut of with it; cures all rhumes, all Catharres, megroomes, verteegoes: presto, be gone!

_Ley_. You must not carry it, _Harlem_: you are a pretty fellow and lop the lyne of life well, but weake to _Baltazar_. Give roome for _Leyden_: heer's an old Cutter, heer's one has polld more pates and neater then a dicker[204], of your Barbers; they nere need washing after. Do's not thy neck itch now to be scratchd a little with this?

_Har_. No, in truth do's it not; but if you'll try first, yf I doe not whip your dodipoll as clenly of and set it on againe as handsomely as it stands now, that you may blow your nose and pledge me too Cans after--

_Ley_. I was afraid The rogue had don't indeed.

_Utr_. You two imagine now You are excellent workmen and that you can doe wonders, And _Utrecht_ but an Asse. Let's feele your Raizors: Handsawes, meere handsawes! Do you put your knees to'em too, And take mens necks for timber? You cutt a feather? Cut butter when your tooles are hot! Looke here, puppies; Heer's the sword that cutt of _Pompeis_ head.

_Har_. The head of a Pumpion.[205]

_Utr_. Looke on't but come not neere it: the very wind on't Will borrow a leg or an arme. Heers touch & take, boyes! And this shall moaw the head of Mounsieur _Barnavelt_. Man is but grasse and hay: I have him here And here I have him. I would undertake with this Sword To cutt the devills head of, hornes and all, And give it to a Burger for his breakfast.

_Ley_. We know you have byn the headman of the parish A great while, _Utricht_, and ministerd much Justice, Nickt many a worthie gamester; and that you, _Harlem_, Have shortend many a hanging cause, to your Commendation: Yet, for all this, who shall trym Monsieur _Barnavelt_ Must run by fortune. You are proper men both; But why before me that have studdied the true trick on't Theis twenty yeeres, and run through all the theorems?

_Har_. Let's fling for't then.

_Ley_. I am content.

_Utr_. And I.

_Har_. Sit round, then: here are dyce, and ile begin to ye. Have at your head, Sir _John_! dewce ace[206]; a doggs-head![207] The devill turnd this ace up. Farwell, velvet gowne! Thou hast mist the luckiest hand to scratch thy Coxcomb.

_Ley_. No, no, Sir. Now for my part. Heigh! fight aloft for the head, boyes. How? Cater-trey[208]?

_Utr_. Will you take a sleeve for your share, Sir?

_Ley_. 'Tis but a desperat cast, and so hee'l find it, If it fall to me. Cast for your game.

_Utr_. Have at it: Stay, let me swing my Sword thrice round first: now, Now the Graves head ... goose giblitts.-- Two sixes, boyes! I knew I should performe it.

Har. Ye have it: thanck your fortune.

_Utr_. I could not misse it, I never lost so faire a stake yet. How ile doe it And in what posture: first, how ile take my leave of him, With a few teares to draw more money from him; Then fold up his braunchd[209] gowne, his hat, his doblet, And like the devill cry 'mine owne! lye there, boyes!' Then bind his eyes; last stir myself up bravely And, in the midle of a whollsome praire, Whip and--_hic iacet Barnavelt_.-- Come, let's sing our old Song, And then come view me how I doe my busines. Boy, come, sing you for me.

[_Song. Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter 2 Captaines[210] & their Soldiers, severally_.

1 _Cap_. Here stand we fast.

2 _Cap_. Cock all your Musketts, Soldiers, now, And gentlemen be ready to bend your pikes; The prisoner's comming out.

1 _Cap_. But doe you thinck They meane to take his head of, or to fright him?

2 _Cap_. Heaven keep me from such frights. Why are theis Guards Commaunded to make good the Execution, If they intend not death?

1 _Cap_. But dare they doe it?

2 _Cap_. What dare not Justice do that's right and honest? Is he not proov'd a guilty man? What bugs Should publick safety be afraid to looke on? Do you hold the United _States_ so tame to feare him,-- Feare him a Traitor, too?

1 _Cap_. You know hee's much lov'd, And every where they stir in his Compassion.

2 _Cap_. They'll stir so long till some of 'em will sinck for't, Some of the best I feare that glewd his faction; Their building lyes discoverd and their bases broken.

1 _Cap_. There is much money laid in every place, too, Hundreds and thousands, that they dare not strike him.

2 _Cap_. Give loosers leave to play the fooles; 'tis lost all. Secure yourself he dyes; nor is it wisdom To go an ace lesse with him: he is monstrous. --The people hurry now; stand fast, he is comming.

_Enter Provost, Soldiers & Executioners, with a Coffin & a Gibbett_.

_Pro_. Make roome before! cleere all theis gaping people And stop their passage.

1 _Cap_. How now? What wonder's this?

_Prov_. Stay! or ile make ye stay: I charge ye stir not.

2 _Cap_. What thinck you now? dare not theis men do Justice? This is the body of _Leidenberg_, that killd himself To free his Cause: his shame has found him yet.

_Prov_. Up with him, come: set all your hands & heave him!

_Exec_. A plaguy, heavy Lubber! Sure this fellow Has a bushell of plot in's belly, he weighes so massy. Heigh! now againe! he stincks like a hung poll cat. This rotten treason has a vengeance savour; This venison wants pepper and salt abhominably.

_Prov_. Pyn him aloft, and pin him sure.

_Exec_. I warrant ye; If ere he run away againe ile swing for him. This would make a rare signe for a Cookes shop, The Christmas pie. [_Exeunt Executioners_.

_Prov_. Come; now about the rest.--Keepe the Court cleere still.

[_Exeunt Provost and Soldiers_.

2 _Cap_. What thinck you now?

1 _Cap_. Now I am afraid of him. This prologue should portend a fatall Tragedie: Theis examples will make 'em shake.

2 _Cap_. 'Tis well they have 'em; Their stubbornenes and pride requires 'em greater. The Prince strikes iust ith' nick and strikes home nobely: This new pretending faction had fird all els; They had floong a generall ruyn on the Cuntry.

_Enter Boyes & Burgers_.

1 _Boy_. He comes, he comes, he comes! ô for a place now!

2 _Boy_. Let's climb the Battlements.

_Cap_. Away with theis rogues.

1 _Burg_. I saw the Guard goe for him: Where shall we be now?

2 _Burg_. He will make a notable Speech, I warrant him.

3 _Burg_. Let's get us neere the Skaffold.

1 _Cap_. Keep of, Turnops: Ye come upon our Pikes els.

1 _Burg_. Pox o' theis Soldiers? We cannot see our frends hangd in quiet for 'em. Come, come, to th' top oth' hall.

[_Exeunt Boys & Burgers_.]

2 _Cap_. Away, good pilchers![211] Now blow your matches and stand fast: he comes here.

1 _Cap_. And now bend all your pikes.

_Enter Provost, Barnavelt, Lords, Guard. (A Scaffold put out) Executioner_.

_Prov_. Cleere all the Skaffold; Let no more into th'Court; we are choakd with people.

_Bar_. You are curteous in your preparations, gentlemen,

1 _Lord_. You must ascend, Sir.

_Bar_. Feareles I will, my lords, And, what you can inflict, as feareles suffer. Thus high you raise me, a most glorious kindnes For all my Cares! For my most faithfull service For you and for the State thus ye promote me! I thanck ye, Cuntrymen, most nobely thanck ye. --Pull of my Gowne. Of what place are ye, frend?

_Exec_. Of _Utrich_, Sir.

_Bar_. Of _Utrich_! Wherefore, prethee, Art thou appointed here?

_Exec_. To tell you true, Sir, I won this place at dyce: we were three appointed.

_Bar_. Am I becom a generall game? a Rest[212] For every Slave to pull at? Thanck ye still: You are growne the noblest in your favours, gentlemen. --What's that hangs there? what Coffin?

_Lord_. How it stirrs him.

2 _Lord_. The body, Sir, of _Leidenberch_[213] the Traitour.

_Bar_. The traitour?

2 _Lord_. I, the Traitour, the fowle Traitour, Who, though he killd himself to cleere his cause, Justice has found him out and so proclaimd him.

_Bar_. Have mercy on his soule! I dare behold him.

1 _Lord_. Beleeve me, he's much moved.

2 _Lord_. He has much reason.

_Bar_. Are theis the holly praires ye prepare for me-- The comforts to a parting soule? Still I thanck ye, Most hartely and lovingly I thanck ye. Will not a single death give satisfaction, O you most greedy men and most ungratefull,-- The quiet sleep of him you gape to swallow, But you must trym up death in all his terrors And add to soules departing frights and feavors? Hang up a hundred Coffins; I dare view 'em, And on their heads subscribe a hundred treasons It shakes not me, thus dare I smile upon 'em And strongly thus outlooke your fellest Justice.

2 _Lord_. Will ye bethinck ye, Sir, of what ye come for.

_Bar_. I come to dye: bethinck you of your Justice And with what Sword ye strike, the edge of mallice. Bethinck ye of the travells I had for ye, The throaes and grones to bring faire peace amongst ye; Bethinck ye of the dangers I have plundgd through And almost gripes of death, to make you glorious. Thinck when the Cuntry, like a Wildernes, Brought nothing forth but desolation, Fire, Sword and Famine; when the earth sweatt under ye Cold dewes of blood, and _Spanish_ flames hoong ore ye, And every man stood markt the child of murder And women wanted wombes to feed theis cruelties;-- Thinck then who stept in to you, gently tooke ye And bound your bleeding wounds up; from your faces Wipd of the sweatts of sorrow, fed and nurssd ye; Who brought the plowgh againe to crowne your plenty; Your goodly meadowes who protected (Cuntrymen) From the armd Soldiers furious marches; who Unbard the Havens that the floating Merchant Might clap his lynnen wings up to the windes And back the raging waves to bring you proffit. Thinck through whose care you are a Nation And have a name yet left,--a fruitfull Nation (Would I could say as thanckfull)--bethinck ye of theis things And then turne back and blush, blush [for] my ruyne.

1 _Lord_. 'Tis strange how this [man b]rags; 'tis a strange impudence Not to be pittied in his [case], not sufferd. You breed the peace, you bring the plowgh againe? You wipe the fire and blood of from this Cuntry, And you restore hir to hir former Beuty? Blush in thine age, bad man; thy grave blush for thee And scorne to hide that man that holds no Creadit. Beare witnes all the world that knowes our Trobles Or ever greiv'd our plagues, what we have sufferd And, under Heaven, by what armes we have cur'd theis,-- Councells and frends; in which I tell thee (_Barnavelt_), And through thy Impudence I here proclaime it, Thou hadst the least and last share. 'Tis not your face, Sir, The greatnes of your friends, corruptly purchast, The Crying up of your manie Services, Which lookd into wither away like Mushrumps, Shall scandall us.

2 _Lord_. Your _Romaine_ end, to make men Imagine your strong conscience fortifide, No, nor your ground Religion. Examine all men Branded with such fowle syns as you now dye for, And you shall find their first stepp still Religion. _Gowrie_ in _Scotland_, 'twas his maine pretention: Was not he honest, too? his Cuntries father? Those fyery Speritts next that hatchd in _England_ That bloody Powder-Plot, and thought like meteors To have flashd their Cuntryes peace out in a Moment: Were not their Barrells loden with Religion? Were not they pious, iust and zealous Subiects? Humble your soule for shame, and seeke not now, Sir, To tumble from that happines even Angells Were throwne from for their pride. Confes, and dye well.

1 _Lord_. Will ye confes your faultes?

_Bar_. I come not heather To make myself guilty; yet one fault I must utter, And 'tis a great one.

2 _Lord_. The greater mercy.

_Bar_. I dye for saving this unthanckfull Cuntry.

1 _Lord_. Play not with heaven.

_Bar_. My Game's as sure as yours is, And with more care and inocence I play it. Take of my doblet; and I prethee, fellow, Strike without feare.

_Exec_. I warrant ile fitt ye. I pray forgive me, Sir.

_Bar_. Most hartely, And heer's my hand. I love thee, too: thy physick Will quickly purge me from the worldes abuses. When I speak lowdest, strike.

_Exec_. I shall observe ye.

_Bar_. Farwell, my lords: to all your Counsailes fortune, Happie succes and proffit; peace to this Cuntry; And to you all, that I have bredd like children, Not a more faithfull father but more fortunate. Doe not I stay too long?

2 _Lord_. Take your owne time, Sir.

_Bar_. I have a wiffe, my lords, and wretched children, Unles it please his Grace to looke upon 'em And your good honours with your eies of favour. 'Twill be a litle happines in my death That they partake not with their fathers ruyns.

1 _Lord_. Let not that troble ye: they shall not find it.

_Bar_. Commend my last breath to his Excellence; Tell him the Sun he shot at is now setting, Setting this night, that he may rise to morrow, For ever setting. Now let him raigne alone And with his rayes give life and light to all men. May he protect with honour, fight with fortune, And dye with generall love, an old and good Prince. My last petition, good Cuntrymen, forget me: Your memories wound deeper then your mallice, And I forgive ye all.--A litle stay me.-- Honour and world I fling ye thus behind me, And thus a naked poore man kneele to heaven: Be gracious to me, heare me, strengthen me. I come, I come, ô gracious heaven! now, now, Now, I present--

_Exec_. Is it well don mine Heeres?

1 _Lord_. Somewhat too much; you have strooke his fingers, too, But we forgive your haste. Draw in the body; And Captaines, we discharge your Companies.

_Vand_. Make cleere the Court.--Vaine glory, thou art gon! And thus must all build on Ambition.

2 _Lord_. Farwell, great hart; full low thy strength now lyes: He that would purge ambition this way dies.

_Exeunt_.

INTRODUCTION TO _CAPTAIN UNDERWIT_.

This anonymous Comedy is printed, for the first time, from Harl. MS. 7,650,--a small quarto of eighty-nine leaves. I have followed Halliwell (Dictionary of Old Plays) in adopting the title, Captain _Underwit_. There is no title-page to the MS.

An editor with plenty of leisure on his hands would find ample opportunities in Captain _Underwit_ for discursive comment. Sometimes I have been obliged to pass over odd phrases and out-of-the-way allusions without a line of explanation; but in the index at the end of the fourth