A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II - Various
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_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, o 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! o 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_! o 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, o miserable man? none left thee.
What constant frends? 'tis now a cryme to know thee
... ... ... be death.
_Enter Servant_.
_Serv_. My Lady would entreat, Sir--
_Bar_. My head? What art thou? from whom sent?
_Serv_. Heaven blesse me!
_Bar_. Are they so greedy of my blood?--O, pardon me:
I know thee now; thou art my honest Servant.
What would thy Lady?
_Serv_. Your Company to supper, Sir.
_Bar_. I cannot eate; I am full alredy, tell hir:
Bid hir sitt downe: full, full, too full. [_Exit Serv_.
My thancks
Poyzd equally with those faire services
I have done the States, I should walk confidently
Upon this high-straind danger. O, this end swayes me,
A heavy bad opinion is fixt here
That pulls me of; and I must downe for ever.
_Enter Daughter_[183]
_Daught_. Sir, will it please ye--
_Bar_. Ha!
_Daught_. Will it please ye, Sir--
_Bar_. Please me! what please me?--that I send thee, Girle,
To some of my great Masters to beg for me.
Didst thou meane so?
_Daught_. I meane, Sir--
_Bar_. Thou art too charitable
To prostitute thy beutie to releeve me;
With thy soft kisses to redeeme from fetters
The stubborne fortune of thy wretched father.
_Daught_. I understand ye not.
_Bar_. I hope thou do'st not.
_Daught_. My Lady Mother, Sir--
_Bar_. Prethee, good Girle,
Be not so cruell to thy aged father
To somme up all his miseries before him.
_Daught_. I come, Sir, to entreat your Company.
_Bar_. I am not alone.
_Daught_. My Mother will not eate, Sir.
--What fitt is this!
_Bar_. There can be no attonement:
I know the Prince: _Vandort_ is fleshd upon me,
And _Bredero_, though he be of noble nature,
Dare not step in. Wher's my Son _William_?
His Goverment is gon, too; and the Soldier,
O, the falce Soldier! What! wouldst thou have a husband?
Goe, marry an English Captaine, and hee'll teach thee
How to defy thy father and his fortune.--
I cannot eate; I have no stomach, Girle.
_Daught_. Good Sir, be patient.
_Bar_. No news from _Grotius_?
No flow of frends there? _Hoger-beets_ lye still, too?
--Away: ile come anon.
_Daught_. Now heaven preserve ye! [_Exit_.
_Bar_. A gentle Girle: why should not I pray, too?
I had nere more need. When I am sett and gon,
What understanding can they stick up then
To fill the place I bore? None, not a man:
To traffick with Great Princes? none: to deale
With all the trobles of the war? None, certaine, no man:
To bring in daylie treasure? I know no man;
They cannot pick a man made up to serve 'em.
Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly before
Myne owne weake thoughts?--Art thou there, too?
_Enter Wife[184] and Daughter_.
_Wife_. Fy, fy, Sir:
Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirements
To choake your speritts? You have studied long enough
To serve the uses of those men that scorne ye;
'Tis time you take your ease now.
_Bar_. I shall shortly;
An everlasting ease, I hope.
_Wife_. Why weep ye,
My deere Sir? speak.
_Bar_. Never till now unhappie!
Thy fruit there and my fall ripen togeather
And fortune gives me heires of my disgraces.
_Wife_. Take nobler thoughts.
_Bar_. What will becom of thee, Wiffe,
When I am gon? When they have gorgd their envies
With what I have, what honest hand in pitty
Will powre out to thy wants? What noble eye
Will looke upon my Children strooke with miserie
And say 'you had a father that I honourd;
For his sake be my Brothers and my Sisters.'
_Wife_. There cannot be such crueltie.
_Bar_. I hope not;
Yet what so confident Sailour that heares the Sea rore,
The winds sing lowd and dreadfull, the day darkend,
But he will cry 'a storme'! downe with his Canvas
And hull, expecting of that horrid feavour?
_Enter Son_.
--How now? What newes?
_Son_. Plucke up your hart, Sir, fairely
And wither not away thus poorely from us;
Be now secure: the myst ye feard is vanishd,--
_Leidenberch's_ dead.
_Bar_. Dead?
_Son_. Killd himself; his owne hand
Most bravely was his Justice; nor left behind him
One peece of paper to dishonour ye.
They are all to seeke now for their Accusations.
_Bar_. And is he dead? so timely, too? so truly?
Speak't againe, _Will_?
_Son_. Hee's dead, Sir, if I live here.
_Bar_. And his owne hand?
_Son_. His hand and will performd it.
_Bar_. Give me some wyne. I find now, notwithstanding
[_Enter Servant with wine_.
The opposition of those mindes that hate me,
A wise-man spyns his owne fate and secures it.
Nor can I, that have powre to perswade men dye,
Want living frends to iustifie my Creadit.
Goe in and get me meat now; invyte my frends,
I am determind to be high and merry.
Thou hast lost thy Charge; wee'll have another, _Will_;
It shall goe hard els. The Prince of _Orange_ now
Will find what frends I have, and of what reckning;
And when he seekes this life, he must make passage
Through thousands more and those he little dreames of.
_Son_. I wonder how he got that speritt, Sir, to dye soe?
_Bar_. He was a weak man, indeed, but he has redeemd it:
There be some other I could wish of his mind.
Do'st thinck they dare doe any thing now.
_Son_. 'Troth, I thinck not, Sir.
_Bar_. No, Boy, I warrant thee; they make great soundes,
But mark what followes. Prethee, let's be merry,
I want it much.
_Son_. I am glad to see you so, Sir.
_Enter Servant_.
_Bar_. I cannot be above two daies from Councell,
I know their wants. How now, what haste?
_Serv_. O, Sir, ye are undon;
We have lost ye.
_Bar_. Ha!
_Serv_. For ever lost ye.
_Bar_. Why?
[_Serv_.] The Captaine of the Guard, the Princes Captaine--
_Bar_. Where? how?
_Enter Wife & Daughter_.
_Serv_. Is broken in now upon us.
_Wife_. He will not be denyde. O, my deare Husband!
The cruell Princes Captaine!
[_Captaine within_.
_Cap_. Ope the dore;
Wee'll force it els, and all that dare resist us
Wee'll put to th'Sword.
_Bar_. Open the dore: farewell, Wiffe;
Goe to the French Embassadour presently;
There's all my hope. To him make knowne my misery,
Wooe him with teares, with praires: this kisse; be happie.
_Wife_. O, we shall never see ye more!
[_Exeunt Wife and Daughter_.
_Enter Captaine & others_.
_Bar_. Away!--
You Instrument of blood, why doe ye seeke us?
I have knowne the day you have wayted like a suppliant
And those knees bended as I past. Is there no reverence
Belonging to me left now, that like a Ruffian
Rudely ye force my lodgings? No punishment
Due to a cryme of that fowle nature?
_Cap_. You must pardon me,
I have commission, Sir, for what I offer,
And from those men that are your Masters, too;
At least you'll find 'em soe. You must shift your lodging,
And presently: I have a charge to see ye
Yeild yourself quietly.
_Bar_. Goe and tell their Lordships
I will attend to-morrow. I know my time
And how to meet their mallice without guards.
This is the Prince, the cruell Prince your Master,
The thirstie Prince of this poore Life.
_Cap_. Be not vext;
That will not help ye, Sir.
_Bar_. I wilbe vext,
And such an anger I will fling amongst 'em
Shall shake the servile soules of these poore wretches
That stick his slight deservings above mine.
I charge ye draw your Guard off and disperce 'em:
I have a powre as full as theirs.
_Cap_. You'll find not;
And I must have ye with me.
_Bar_. And am I subiect
That have stood the brunt of all their busines,
And when they slept watcht to secure their slombers,--
Subiect to slights, to scornes, to taynts, to tortures?
To feed one privat mallice am I betrayd?
Myne age, myne honour and my honest dealing
Sold to the hangmans Sword?
_Cap_. I cannot stay.
_Bar_. Take me
And glory in my blood, you most ungratefull;
Feed your long bloody hopes and bath your angers
In _Barnavelts_ deservings; share my Services;
Let it be death to pitty me; to speak well of me,
The ruyn of whole famylies. When I am gon
And angry war againe shall ceize your Cuntry,
Too late remember then and cursse your follyes.
--I am ready. Farwell, Son; remember me
But not my fortune; let them cry that shall want me.
_Cap_. No man come neere on paine of death: away with him.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 4.
_Enter Orange & 1 Captaine_.[185]
_Cap_. And as I told your Highnes, so wee tooke him.
_Or_. 'Twas with discretion and valour followd.
You were not noted as you made entraunce
Into the _Hague_?
_Cap_. No, Sir; 'twas about midnight,
And few were stirring but the Guard.
_Or_. The better.
Let his being brought in be still conceald, and tell him
If uncompelld he will confes the truth
At _Barnavelts_ Arraignement, that all favour
That I can wyn him shall prepare a way
To quallifie his fault.
_Cap_. Ile work him to it
And doubt not.
_Enter Burgers & Women with bowghs & flowres_.
_Cap_. 'Tis Kramis[186]-time,
In which it is a custome with the people
To deck their dores with Garlonds, Bowghes, and flowres
That are most gratious.
_Or_. I remember.
--Stand close.
[1] _Burg_. Strew, strew: more Garlonds and more Flowres.
Up with the Bowghes! Sacramant, I will have
My noble frends house, Mounseiur _Barnavelts_,
As well deckt as his Excellencies Court,
For though they have got him in prison he deserves
As well as any.
_Cap_. Mark you that.
2 _Burg_. 'Tis said
They will cutt of his head.
1 _Burg_. Much![187] with a Cusshin!
They know he has too many frends.
[2] _Burg_. They dare not.
People will talke: I hope ere long to see him
As great as ever.
[1] _Burg_. Greater too, I doubt not,
And of more powre; his feet upon the necks
Of all his Enemies.
_Or_. I am glad I heard this;
And _Barnavelt_ shall feele I will make use oft.
Come; follow me.
[_Exeunt_.
2 _Burg_. So, now the merry Song
We made for his good Lady. Lustique,[188] hoa!
[Song.
_Enter Wife above_.
_Wife_. All thancks, kind frends, that a sad house can give ye
Pray you receive; for I rest well assurd,
Though theis sports are unseasonable here,
They testifie your loves; and, if my Lord
Ere live to be himself againe, I know
He will remember it.
1 _Burg_. Now for the Daunce, Boyes.
_Wife_. Ther's something for your paines: drinck it, I pray.
2 _Burg_. To a doyt, my vroa, to thy Lords health and thyne.
The Bree[189] for his Excellencie and the Heeres
That love him not. Ten hundred thousand blessings
To him and thee, my vroa.
[_Daunce_.
_Wife_. I thanck you, frend.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 5.
_Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort, William, Lords.
[Table_.
_Vand_. Let him be sent for presently: he shall know,
[_A Bar brought in_.
Were he ten times more popular, his frends
And flatterers Centuple, the Sword of Justice
Shall fall on him as on the meanest man
Since he deserves it.
_Enter Provost, Captaines & Guard with Barnavelt_.
_Pro_. Make roome for the Prisoner.
_Bar_. My dutie to your Highnes and theis Princes
And an increase of wisdome to your Lordships,
For which the world admires you, I wish to you.
Alas, what troble do's a weake old man,
(That is, being out of all imployment, useles)
The bag of his deserts, too, cast behind you,
Impose upon this Senat? My poore life
(Which others envy makes your Instruments
To fight against) will hardly be a Conquest
Worthie such great performers.
_Vand_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_,
'Tis no mans envy that hath brought us hether
To sitt as Judges on you, but your owne.
Your owne late actions they have raisd a war
Against your former merritts, and defeated
What ever then was ranckt for good and great,
For which your Enemies, those that you thought frends,
Triumph, not wee.
_Bre_. We rather wish you could
Acquitt yourself of that for which we have
Too evident prooffes, then labour to intrap you.
_Bar_. I must beleeve and suffer whatsoever
Your Lordships charge me with: yet would gladly heare
What my faultes are.
_Vand_. Read the Confessions
Of _Leidenberch_ and _Taurinus_.
_Bar_. _Leidenberch_!
_Officer reads_. First, that the _Arminian_ faction (of which Sir _John
Van Olden Barnavelt_, late Advocate of _Holland_ and _West Frizeland_
and Councellor of State, was without contradiction the head) had
resolved and agreed to renounce and break the generallity and unitie
of the State.
Secondly, Change and alter the Religion, and to that end, without the
Consent of the Generall States, had raysed up and dispeirsed 3000
Arminian Soldiers.
Thirdly, To degrade the Prince of _Orange_.
Fourthly, To massacre the people of the Townes which were their greatest
Enemies or offered resistaunce.
Fiftly, yf that fayled, to take in assistaunce of some forreigne
Potentates, as _Spaine_ or _Brabant_, delivering unto them _Utricht,
Nunweghen, Bergen op Zone_, and the _Brill_--