Giles. I am put to a non plus:— Speake mine Here Secretarie.
Leid. I have heardSo much deliverd by you and so well,Your actions, too, at all parts answearingWhat you have spoken, that I must acknowledgeWe all stand far indebted to your service:And therefore, as unto the worthiest,The faithfullest and strongest that protectUs and our Cuntries, we now seek to you,And would not but such men should be remembredAs principall assistants in the CareOf a disease which now the State lyes sick of.I know you love the valiant Prince, and yetYou must graunt him a Servant to the StatesAs you are, Gentlemen, and therefore will notDefend that in him which you would not cherishIn cold blood in your selves; for should he beDisloyall—
Leuit. He disloyall! 'tis a language I will not heare.
2Cap. Such a suspition of him Is one that wore a Sword deserv'd the lye.
1Cap. We know your oild tongue; and your rethoriqueWill hardly work on us that are acquaintedWith what faire language your ill purposesAre ever cloathd, nor ever wilbe wonTo undervalue him whose least fam'd serviceScornes to be put in ballance with the bestOf all your Counsailes; and for his faith, O heaven!It do's as far transcend yours in your prairesAs light do's darkness.
Leid. I perceive 'tis trueThat such as flatter Servants make them prowd.Wee'll use a rougher way, and here commaund youTo leave the Towne, and sodainely, if you wish notTo be forced hence.
1Cap. Your new raisd CompaniesOf such as never saw the EnemieCan hardly make that good: we were placed hereBy the allowaunce of the generall StatesAnd of the Prince to keep it to their use.
Leuit. And we will doe it.
1Cap. And while there is LeadUpon a house, or any Soldier masterBut of a doyt: when that is gon, expectThat we will make you sport, or leave our livesTo witness we were faithfull.—Come, Lieutenant,Let us draw up the Companies; and thenCharge on us when you please.[Exeunt.
Mod. This I foresaw.
Bar. Oh, I am lost with anger! are we falneSo lowe from what we were, that we dare heareThis from our Servants and not punish it?Where is the terrour of our names, our powreThatSpainewith feare hath felt in both hisIndies?We are lost for ever, and from freemen growneSlaves 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 preserveThe lustre of my actions; let me with themBe nere remembred, so this governmentYour 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 defendWith rigour what too gentle lenitieHath 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 theHageAnd something there Ile doe that shall divertThe torrent that swells towards us, or sinck in it;And let this Prince ofOrangeseat him sure,Or he shall fall when he is most secure.
[Exeunt.
Enter Holderus, Dutch-woemen and an English Gentlew.
1D. W. Here come the Sisters: that's anEnglishGentlewoman, Let's pray for hir Conversion.
2D. W. You are wellcom, Lady,And your comming over hether is most happy;For here you may behold the generall freedomWe live and traffique in, the ioy of woemen.No emperiousSpanisheye governes our actions,NorItalianjealouzie locks up our meetings:We are ourselves our owne disposers, masters;And those that you call husbands are our Servants.
3D. 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.
4D. W. Which cursse you must shake of. To live is nothing;To live admird and lookd at,—poore deservingsBut to live soe, so free you may commaund, Lady,Compell, and there raigne Soveraigne.
1D. W. Do you thinck there's any thingOur 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 manWorks 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 theGrave'sangryAnd MounseiurBarnaveltnow 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 newArminians, 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 ObedienceTo 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 ofGraves.
Hold. TheGraveshall smart for 't shortly; Goe you and tell him soe, gooddyEnglish 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 usAnd has disarmd all the strong Townes about usOf our new Soldiers; theEnglishnow stand onlyAnd 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 PrincesAnd doble charge your tongue with new opinions,—What can you doe? or can theis holly woemenThat you have arm'd against obedienceAnd 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 husbandsAnd bid 'em stand now bravely for their liberties.ArnamandRoterdamand all about usHave yeilded him obedience; all the new CompaniesPurgd and disarmd. Goe you; talke to theArminians,And raise their harts. Good Ladies, no more Councells:This is no time to puppet in.
1D. 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. AnEnglishwoman.
Leid. Would they were all shipt well To th' other part oth' world. Theis stubborneEnglishWe 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.
Enter 1 Captaine[158] and Soldiers.
Sold. They charge us not to let him in.
1Cap. We will doe it; He has our faithes.—What strengthe's upon the Guard?
Sold. Two hundredEnglish.
1Cap. Goe, and give this comaund then:That if any Burgers orArminianSoldiersOffer to come upon the Guard, or let in or outAny without our knowledge, presentlyTo bend their strength upon 'em.
Sold. It shalbe don. [Exit.
1Cap. 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.
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?
2Cap. The Prince is sadly angry.
Leiut. Can ye blame him, Captaine, when such a den of dog whelpsAre 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.
1Cap. Will your Grace please to enter?
Or. And thanck ye too.
1Cap. The Port is open for ye.
Or. You see my number.
1Cap. But I hope 'tis more, Sir.
Or. Theis must in first; 'Twill breed a good securitie.
1Cap. We stand all ready for your Grace.
Or. We thanck ye.
1Cap. What Companies come on, Sir.
Or. Three Troope of horse, That will be with ye presently: keepe strong the Port.
1Cap. Enter when please your Grace; we shall stand sure, Sir.
[Exeunt.
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 theArminianSoldiers?
R. Giles. They stand ith' market place.
Leid. Are they well armd?
R. Giles. Ready to entertaine him.
Leid. Who commaunds the Port?
Vand. TheEnglish.
Leid. Ten towsand devills! Odd's sacrament! a meere trick to betray us.
Vand. We can discover none behind.
Leid. A trick: ThoseEnglishare 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. TheEnglishmake 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.
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. SweetEnglishGentlewoman.
Eng.-gentw. Fy, doe not run! for shame! body a me, How their feare outstincks their garlick! litle SirGregory,
Enter Holderus.[163]
Art thou afraid, too? out with thy two edgd tongueAnd 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.
Enter Orange, Leidenberge, Burgers, Captaines,Soldiers, and Arminians.
Or. Now, MounseuirLeidenbergeyou may se openlyThe 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 areThat boldly dare attempt their Cuntries ruynAnd who we serve, how faithfully and honestlyYou must and shall confes too: not to blind endsHood-winckt with base ambition, such as yours are,But to the generall good.—Let[164] theis new CompaniesMarch 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 fellowesAnd fitt for fowle play.
Leiut. Theis are but heavy marches.
Or. They wilbe lighter straight, when they are unfurnishdYou 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 theHage, Sir, Till when bethinck you of your acts and answeares, For there before the generall State—Where'sModesbargen?
Cap. He left the Towne two daies agoe.
Or. A guilty feare,But we shall fright him worsse. Good order takeFor 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.
Enter Bredero, Vandort.[165]
Bre. Myne Heire Vandort, what thinck ye of the Prince now?
Vandort. Like a true noble Gentlemen he has borne himselfAnd 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 constantAnd 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 SwordAnd those Calamities that shake a kingdom:So gently and without noyse he has performd thisAs if he had don it in a dreame.
Vand. Most certaine,He has run through a busines will much add to himAnd set his vertues of with greater Lustre:But that a man so wise as MounseiurBarnavelt,So trusted, so rewarded for his Service,And one that built the ladder to his honourOf 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 opinionsThat all true learning much laments and greives atAnd 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-brandsAnd through his powre add daylie to their nombers?
Bred. Most sure he is suspected, strongly suspectedBut that a man of his great trust and businesShould sinck or suffer under doubts or whispersOr loose his honour by an others envy,Is not faire play nor honest. The Prince ofOrange,Most thinck, affects him not, nor he the Prince.That either of their angry wills should proveA 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 proofesWill ripen the Imposture.
Enter Barnavelt and his Son.
[1Lord.[166] Here he comes, sir.]
Vand. Methincks he beares not in his CountenaunceThe fulnes of that grave and constant sperit,Nor in his eye appeeres that heat and quicknesHe 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 meSo 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 deservingThat rancks in this below your fellowships?For which of all my cares, of all my watches,My services (too many and too mightieTo find rewards) am I thus recompenced,Not lookd on, not saluted, left forgottenLike one that came to petition to your honours,—Over the shoulder sleighted?
Bred. MounseiurBarnavelt,I am sorry that a man of your great wisdomAnd 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 vertueNow 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.
1Lord. You are doubted, strongly doubted.
Bar. O the devill.
2Lord. Your loialtie suspected.
Bar. Who dare doe this?
Bred. We wish all well; and you that know how dangerousIn men of lesser mark theis foule attempts areAnd often have bewaild 'em in the meanest,I make no doubt will meet your owne fault sodainelyAnd chide yourself; grow faire againe and flourishIn 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 travellsFor 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 dustThat your great Prince may blow 'em into nothing;And on my Monument (you most forgetfull)Fling all your scornes, erect an yroon-toothed envyThat 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 GowneTo buckle with the violence of an Army.The EmperourTraianchallenging a yong manAnd a swift runner to try his speed against him,The Gentleman made answeare sodainelyIt was not safe nor fitt to hold contentionWith any man commaunded thirtie legions.You know the Prince and know his noble nature,I thinck you know his powre, too: of all your wisdomesThis will not show the least nor prove the meanestIn good mens eyes, I thinck, in all that know ye,To seeke his love: gentle and faire demeanoursWyn more then blowes and soften stubborne angers.Let me perswade ye.
Bar. When I am a SycophantAnd 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 loversAnd 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 subiectionI would not give a penney to redeeme it.I have liv'd ever free, onely dependedUpon 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 baselyAnd beg from him a smile owes me an honour.Ye are wreatches, poore starv'd wreatches fedd on crumbsThat he flings to ye: from your owne aboundaunceWreatched and slavish people ye are becomThat 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 willOur 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 noseHere 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.Utrechtis taken in,Modesbargenfled, AndLeidenbergea 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 himThat his owne tongue—
Bar. He cannot be so boyish.
Son. My goverment ofBarghenis disposd of; Their anger now against us all profest, And in your ruyn all must fall.
Bar. A prisoner!Modesbargenfledd! I am glad he is scapt their fingers.Now if the devill had but thisLeidenbergeI were safe enough. What a dull foole was I,A stupid foole, to wrap up such a secreatIn a sheepes hart! ô I could teare my flesh nowAnd 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 fallAnd that the fatall howre is cast ofBarnavelt,Just like a strong demolishd Tower ile totterAnd 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.
Enter P. of Orange, William, Bredero, Vandort, Lords, Collonells, Captaines.
Bred. Will your Excellence please to sitt?
[Table: Bell.
Or. I am prowd your LordshipsSo willingly restore me to that placeFrom which the envy of the AdvocateOf late hath forcd me. And that you may know,How ere his mallice live to me, all hatredIs dead in me to him, I am a SuitourHe may be sent for; for, asBarnaveltisA member of this body politique,I honour him, and will not scorne to yeildA strict accompt of all my Actions to him;And, though my Enemie, while he continuesA 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 ExcellenceDo's well becom you, but would wrong our iudgementsTo call one as a partner to these counsailesThat is suspected, and ev'n then when allHis dark designes and deepest purposesAre 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 forbeareThe troble that you put upon yourselvesIn following me. I can need no defence here,Being left among these whose grave counsailes everHave lookd out for my safetie. 'Tis your pleasureAnd therefore I embrace it.
[Exeunt Collonells & Captaines.
Vand. Now, when you please,Your Excellence may deliver what you haveObserv'd concerning theArminianfaction,What hopes and heads it had, for without questionIt 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 TownesThat were falne of, is a large recompenceFor all my travell; and I would adviseThat (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 themAgainst the publique peace) we should end hereAnd not with labour search for that which willAfflict us when 'tis found. Something I knowThat I could wish I nere had understood,Which yet if I should speake, as the respectAnd duty that I owe my Cuntry binds me,It wilbe thought 'tis rather privat spleeneThen pious zeale. But that is not the hazardWhich I would shun: I rather feare the menWe must offend in this, being great, rich, wise,Sided with strong frends, trusted with the guardOf places most important, will bring forthRather new births of tumult, should they beCalld to their Triall, then appease disorderIn their iust punishment; and in doing JusticeOn three or foure that are delinquents, looseSo many thousand inocents that stand firmeAnd faithfull patriots. Let us leave them thereforeTo the scourge of their owne consciences: perhapsTh'assurance that they are yet undiscoverd,Because not cyted to their answeare, willSo work with them hereafter to doe wellThat we shall ioy we sought no farther in it.
Vand. Such mild proceedings in a GovermentNew setled, whose maine strength had it's dependaunceUpon the powre of some perticuler men,Might be given way to, but in ours it wereUnsafe and scandalous: then theProvincesHave lost their liberties, Justice hir Sword,And we prepared a way for our owne ruynWhen for respect or favour unto any,Of what condition soever, wePalliat seditions and forbeare to callTreason by hir owne name.
1Lord. It must not be: Such mercie to ourselves were tirranie.
2Lord. Nor are we to consider who they areThat have offended, but what's the offenceAnd how it should be punishd, to deterOthers by the example.
Bred. Which we will doe;And using that united powre which warrantsAll we thinck fitt, we doe intreat your Highnes(For willingly we would not say comaund you),As you affect the safetie of the StateOr to preserve your owne deserved honoursAnd never-tainted loyaltie, to make knowneAll such as are suspected.
Or. I obey you;And though I cannot give up certaine proofesTo point out the delinquents, I will nameThe men the generall voice proclaimes for guiltie.Modesbargensflight assures him one, nor isThe pentionary ofRoterdam[169]Grotius,Free from suspition: fromUtrechtI have broughtThe SecretarieLeidenberge, who hathConfest alredy something that will give usLight to find out the rest. I would end hereAnd leave outBarnavelt.
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 inModesbargen. 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 ofGermanie(Whether they say hee's fledd) without a war,At least the breaking of that league we haveConcluded with them, I ingeniouslyConfes 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 ofGermanie?
Cap. I have livd there. Most of my time.
Or. But doe you know the Castle Belonging toModesbargensAunt 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 sportModesbargenfrom 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 speedI would have you to post thether: from the BordersMake choice of any horsemen you thinck fitt,And, when you come there, devide them into partiesAnd lodge neere to the Castle. YfModesbargenCome forth to hunt, or if at any timeYou find the draw-bridge up, break in upon himAnd willing or unwilling force him hether.You shall have gold to furnish you, and this donPropose 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 withLeidenberge?
Bred. Let him beKept safe a while: forBarnavelt, till we haveSome certaine proofes against him, I hold fittHe have his libertie, but be suspendedFrom any place or voice in Court untillHis guilt or inocence appeere.
Vand. I like it.
Lords. We are all of your opinion.
Or. Bring inLeidenberch.
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, MounseiurLeidenberch,We send not for you, though your fault deserve it,To load you with reproofe, but to advise youTo make use of the way we have found outTo save your life and honour. You already,In free confession of your fault, have madeA part of satisfaction; goe on in it,And you shall find a faire discoveryOf youre fowle purposes and th'agents in 'emWill wyn more favour from theyr lordships to youThen 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 sakeLet me goe with him, for theis naughtie menWill nere wayt on him well. I am usd to undresse himWhen he's to goe to bed, and then read to himUntill 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.
Enter 2 Captaines.[172]
1Cap. This is a strange cutting time.
2Cap. Let 'em cutt deep enough,They will doe no great cure els. I wonder strangelyThey carry such a gentle hand onLeidenberchThat any frends come to him.
1Cap. 'Has confest much, Beleeve it, and so far they feare him not, They would be els more circumspect.
2Cap. Pray ye, tell me, Is there no further newes of those are fledd,— I meane those fellow Instruments?
1Cap. None as yet,—At least divulgd abroad. But certenlyThe wise States are not idle, neither at this timeDo's it concerne their safeties. We shall heare shortlyMore of theis monsters.
2Cap. Let's to dynner, Sir; There we shall heare more newes.
1Cap. Ile beare ye companie.
[Exeunt.
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 speedAnd 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 prodigiouslyEven 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 enterUtrecht.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 sufferThe haughtieEnglishto 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'sfledd, and what we lockt in himToo far of from their subtle keys to open,Yf we stand constant now to one anotherAnd 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 usBut 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 meA fellow of thy falce hart for a frend?Thy melting mind! foold with a few faire wordsSuffer 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 fortunesThrough thy base feare made subject to example!Nor will the shott stay there, but with full violenceRun through the rancke of frends, disperse and totterThe 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 steepeAnd 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 JudgeAnd 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 firstEre 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 honoursAllowes us also safe waies to preserve 'em,To scape the hands of infamy and tirrany.We may be our owne Justice: he that losesHis Creadit (deere as life) through doubt or faintnessIs guilty of a doble death, his name dies;He is onely pious that preserves his heireHis 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 nobelyThe 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 atThe 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.
Enter Grotius & Hogerbeets.
Gro. They have arrested him,Hogerbeets?
Hog. Yes;That you all know,Grotius, they did atUtrich,But since they have with more severitieAnd scorne of us proceeded. MonsieurBarnaveltWalkes 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 maintaindThe freedom I was borne to, against allThat ever have provoakd me, will not feareWhat this old Grave or the new Prince ofOrangeDare undertake beyond this, but will rise upAnd if he lay his hands onBarnavelt,His Court, our Guift, and where the generall StatesOur equalls sit ile fry[175] about their earesAnd quench it in their blood. What now I speakeAgaine 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 toLeyden, Ile keep atRoterdam: there if he fetch me Ile nere repent whatever can fall on me.
[Exeunt.
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 meOr 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 womanWhen most I should be man! Sweet hart, farewell,Farewell for ever. When we get us childrenWe then doe give our freedoms up to fortuneAnd 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 thingThat shalbe deerer then himself unto him?—Tush,Leidenberch: thinck what thou art to doe;Not to playNiobeweeping ore her Children,Unles thatBarnaveltappeere againeAnd chide thy dull-cold nature.—He is fast: [Son abed.Sleepe on, sweet Child, the whilst thy wreatched fatherPrepares him to the yron sleepe of death.Or is death fabled out but terrableTo fright us from it? or rather is there notSome hidHesperides, some blessed fruitesMoated about with death. Thou soule ofCato,And you braveRomainesperitts, famous moreFor your true resolutions on yourselvesThen Conquest of the world, behold, and see meAn old man and a gowne man, with as much hastAnd gladnes entertaine this steele that meetes meAs 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 huntFor 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, MasterProvost! 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.
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:Modesbargenis 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 CastleLeast he break in againe. What CompanyHave 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 twentyWe are strong enough to fright 'em; and by all meanesLet those that stay seek by some trick or otherTo make the Bridge good, that they draw it notIf 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.
1Hunt. The Hare was rotten[178];You should have heard els such a rore, and seene 'emMake all hir dobles out with such neat huntingAnd 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 itThat I could wish I had nere hunted afterAny 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 uponThe perrills I have past, the plotts and traynes!And now (methincks) I dare securely looke onThe steepe and desprat follyes my indiscretionLike 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 followBarnavelt,To step into his attempts, to wedd my freedomTo his most dangerous faction, a meere Coxcomb;But I have scapd their clawes.—Have ye found more game?
Enter 2 Huntesmen[179].
2Hunt. Beating about to find a new Hare, we discoverd—
Mod. Discoverd what?
2Hunt. 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?
2Hunt. For certaine they are Soldiers; for if theis are eyes I saw their pistolls.
Mod. Many?
2Hunt. Some half a score, Sir.
Mod. I am betraide: away and raise the Boores up, Bid 'em deale manfully.
1Hunt. 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 enoughTo enter with him. Besides there's this advantage:They that are left behind, instead of helpingA Boores Cart ore the Bridge, loden with hay,Have crackt the ax-tree with a trick, and there it standsAnd 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'tAnd 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 yeAnd 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.