A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II - Various
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_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, o 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, o Prince?" o, 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! o 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?