_Bar_. That I confes, too; But yet we must expect much opposition Ere your opinions be confirmd. I know The _Prince of Orange_ a sworne enemie To your affections: he has vowd to crosse you, But I will still stand for you. My advice is That, having won the Burgers to your partie, Perswade them to enroll new Companies For their defence against the Insolence Of the old Soldiers garisond at _Utrecht_. Yet practise on them, too, and they may urge this: That since they have their pay out of that Province, Justice requires they should be of their partie: All that is don in _Utrecht_ shalbe practisd In _Roterdam_ and other Townes I name not. Farther directions you shall have hereafter, Till when I leave you. _Gro_. With all zeale and care We will performe this. [_Exit_.[148] _Leid_. This foundation Is well begun. _Gro_. And may the building prosper. _Mod_. Yet let me tell you, where Religion Is made a cloke to our bad purposes They seldom have succes. _Bar_. You are too holly: We live now not with Saincts but wicked men, And any thriving way we can make use of, What shape so ere it weares, to crosse their arts, We must embrace and cherish; and this course (Carrying a zealous face) will countenaunce Our other actions. Make the Burgers ours, Raise Soldiers for our guard, strengthen our side Against the now unequall opposition Of this Prince that contemns us;[149] at the worst, When he shall know there are some Regiments We may call ours, and that have no dependaunce Upon his favour, 'twill take from his pride And make us more respected. _Mod_. May it prove so. _Enter Bredero, Vandort, Officers_. _Bre_. Good day, my Lord. _Vand_. Good Mounseiur Advocate, You are an early stirrer. _Bar_. 'Tis my dutie To wayte your Lordships pleasure: please you to walke. _Bre_. The Prince is wanting, and this meeting being Touching the oath he is to take, 'twere fitt That we attend him. _Bar_. That he may set downe What he will sweare, prescribing lymitts to us! We need not add this wind by our observaunce To sailes too full alredy. Oh, my Lords, What will you doe? Have we with so much blood Maintaind our liberties, left the allegeaunce (How justly now it is no time to argue) To _Spaine_, to offer up our slavish necks To one that only is what we have made him? For, be but you yourselves, this _Prince of Orange_ Is but as _Barnavelt_, a Servant to Your Lordships and the State; like me maintaind; The pomp he keepes, at your charge: will you then Wayt his prowd pleasure, and in that confes, By daring to doe nothing, that he knowes not-- You have no absolute powre? _Van_. I never sawe The Advocate so mov'd.