_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.