_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!