Chapter VIII: Introduction: To the Tragedy of Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt (1)

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!