Chapter IX: Introduction: To the Tragedy of Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt (2)

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 7.

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

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

_Leiut_. Theis are but heavy marches.

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

_Leid_. Will your Grace be pleasd to heare?

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

_Cap_. He left the Towne two daies agoe.

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

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Tercius_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Bredero, Vandort_.[165]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Enter Barnavelt and his Son_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 _Lord_. You are doubted, strongly doubted.

_Bar_. O the devill.

2 _Lord_. Your loialtie suspected.

_Bar_. Who dare doe this?

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

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

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

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

_Bred_. Take better thoughts.

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

_Bred_. We lament ye.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter the Son_.

_Son_. We are undon, Sir.

_Bar_. Why?

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

_Bar_. Ha!

_Son_. 'Tis too true.

_Bar_. A prisoner?

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

_Bar_. He cannot be so boyish.

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

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

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

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

_Bred_. Will your Excellence please to sitt?

[_Table: Bell_.

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

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

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

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

[_Exeunt Collonells & Captaines_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Bred_. The advice is sound and good.

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

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

_Enter Officer_[170]

_Off_. My lord.

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

_Off_. 'Tis don. [_Exit_.

_Bred_. What does your Excellence ayme at?

_Or_. Have but patience, You shall know sodainely.

_Enter Captaine_.[171]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Cap_. In both I wilbe faithfull.

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

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

_Or_. Doe, and prosper.

_Will_. What will you do with _Leidenberge_?

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

_Vand_. I like it.

_Lords_. We are all of your opinion.

_Or_. Bring in _Leidenberch_.

_Enter Leidenberch, Boy, Guard_.

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

_Leid_. Yes, Boy.

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

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

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

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

_Vand_. In the meane time You are a prisoner.

_Boy_. Who? my father?

_Bred_. Yes, Boy.

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

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

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

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

[_Exeunt Leid., Boy, Guard_.

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter 2 Captaines_.[172]

1 _Cap_. This is a strange cutting time.

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

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

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

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

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

1 _Cap_. Ile beare ye companie.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 4.

_Enter Barnavelt & Provost_.

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

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

_Bar_. He does not talke much?

_Pro_. Litle or nothing, Sir.

_Bar_. Nor wrighte?

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

_Bar_. Doe you keep him close?

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

_Bar_. I thanck ye.

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

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

_Enter Leidenberch_.

--I am sorry for your fortune.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Bar_. What?

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

_Bar_. Speake.

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

_Bar_. Confessd!

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

_Bar_. Confessd!

_Leid_. He lookes me blind now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Leid_. Dye?

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

_Leid_. Dye, did you say? dye wilfully?

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

_Leid_. 'Tis no great paine.

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

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

_Bar_. A long farwell, Sir.

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

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 5.

_Enter Grotius & Hogerbeets_.

_Gro_. They have arrested him, _Hogerbeets_?

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

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

_Hog_. What you purpose I will not fly from.

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

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 6.

_Enter Leidenberch & Boy_.

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

_Leid_. No, my Boy, not yet.

_Boy_. 'Tis late and I grow sleepie.

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

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

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

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

_Leid_. Why, Boy?

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

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

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

_Leid_. Why do'st thou weep?

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

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

_Boy_. But why do you weep, father?

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

_Boy within_. Oh!

_Leid_. Sure the Boy wakes And I shalbe prevented.

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

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

_Enter Boy_.

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

_Enter Provost & Servts_.

_Prov_. 'Twas the Boyes voice, certaine.

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

_Prov_. Take of the Boy.

_Boy_. O let me dwell here ever.

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

_Boy_. O that I never knew againe.

_Prov_. In with it.

[_Exeunt_.

Actus Quartus.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Captaine[176] and Soldiers_.

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

_Sold_. They are all, Captaine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Enter Modes-bargen & Huntsmen_[177].

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

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

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

_Enter 2 Huntesmen_[179].

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

_Mod_. Discoverd what?

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

_Mod_. Look't they like Soldiers?

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

_Mod_. Many?

2 _Hunt_. Some half a score, Sir.

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

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Captn & Soldiers_.

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

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

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

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Modesbargen & Huntesmen_.

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

_Hunt_. We have no powder, Sir.

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

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

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

_Enter Captaine & Soldiers_.

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

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

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

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

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

_Mod_. I am undon for ever.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 2.

_Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Bred_. You are nobely provident.

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

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

_Serv_. Hee's here, Sir.

_Enter Captaine_.

_Or_. Harck in your eare.

_Cap_. I shall, Sir.

_Or_. Doe it wisely And without tumult.

_Cap_. I observe your Grace.

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

_All_. We wish it all succes, Sir.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter Barnavelt (in his studdy)_.

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

_Enter Servant_.

_Serv_. My Lady would entreat, Sir--

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

_Serv_. Heaven blesse me!

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

_Serv_. Your Company to supper, Sir.

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

_Enter Daughter_[183]

_Daught_. Sir, will it please ye--

_Bar_. Ha!

_Daught_. Will it please ye, Sir--

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

_Daught_. I meane, Sir--

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

_Daught_. I understand ye not.

_Bar_. I hope thou do'st not.

_Daught_. My Lady Mother, Sir--

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

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

_Bar_. I am not alone.

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

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

_Daught_. Good Sir, be patient.

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

_Daught_. Now heaven preserve ye! [_Exit_.

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

_Enter Wife[184] and Daughter_.

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

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

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

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

_Wife_. Take nobler thoughts.

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

_Wife_. There cannot be such crueltie.

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

_Enter Son_.

--How now? What newes?

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

_Bar_. Dead?

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

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

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

_Bar_. And his owne hand?

_Son_. His hand and will performd it.

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

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

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

_Son_. 'Troth, I thinck not, Sir.

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

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

_Enter Servant_.

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

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

_Bar_. Ha!

_Serv_. For ever lost ye.

_Bar_. Why?

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

_Bar_. Where? how?

_Enter Wife & Daughter_.

_Serv_. Is broken in now upon us.

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

[_Captaine within_.

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

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

_Wife_. O, we shall never see ye more!

[_Exeunt Wife and Daughter_.

_Enter Captaine & others_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Cap_. I cannot stay.

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

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

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 4.

_Enter Orange & 1 Captaine_.[185]

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

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

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