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Updated: June 8, 2025
I do confes my error was an act Soe grosse and heathnish that its very sight Would have inforcd a Crocodile to weepe Drops as sincere as does the timorous heart When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing His funerall Dirge. Bel. Can this be possible? Bon. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith, Can more abhorre the Error he has left Than I do mine.
My ruyns shall reach all: the valiant Soldier, Whose eies are unacquainted but with anger, Shall weep for me because I fedd and noursd him; Princes shall mourne my losse, and this unthanckfull, Forgetful Cuntry, when I sleepe in ashes, Shall feele and then confes I was a father. Enter P. of Orange, William, Bredero, Vandort, Lords, Collonells, Captaines. Bred. Will your Excellence please to sitt?
Give me your hand, Sir; You have put me in a path I will tread strongly; Redeeme what I have lost, and that so nobely The world shall yet confes at least I lovd ye. How much I smile at now theis peoples mallice! Dispise their subtle ends, laugh at their Justice! And what a mightie Prince a constant man is!
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