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1 Lord. Will ye confes your faultes? Bar. I come not heather To make myself guilty; yet one fault I must utter, And 'tis a great one. 2 Lord. The greater mercy. Bar. I dye for saving this unthanckfull Cuntry. 1 Lord. Play not with heaven. Bar. My Game's as sure as yours is, And with more care and inocence I play it. Take of my doblet; and I prethee, fellow, Strike without feare. Exec.
Bar. In the Art Of Goverment they scornd not once to be soe, Nor you to give me hearing: and if ever 'Twer lawful th' unthanckfull men t'upbraid Unequall benefitts, let it not in me Be now held glorious if I speake my best.
Taynted and torne in honour must I perish, And must theis silver curles, ô you unthanckfull, Theis emblemes of my frostie cares and travells For you and for the State, fall with disgraces? Goe, fall before your new Prince! worship him, Fill all your throates with flattery, cry before him 'Tis he, and onely he, has truly serv'd ye! Vand.
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?
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