_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_.