_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_.