execution; the sun will not come forth; the fogs are rank.

Soest. Orange, too, is gone.

Carpenter. Then are we quite deserted!

Soest, Count Egmont is still here.

Jetter. God be thanked! Strengthen him, all ye saints, to do his utmost;
he is the only one who can help us.

[Enter Vansen.

Vansen. Have I at length found a few brave citizens who have not crept
out of sight?

Jetter. Do us the favour to pass on.

Vansen. You are not civil.

Jetter. This is no time for compliments. Does your back itch again? are
your wounds already healed?

Vansen. Ask a soldier about his wounds? Had I cared for blows, nothing
good would have come of me.

Jetter. Matters may grow more serious.

Vansen. You feel from the gathering storm a pitiful weakness in your
limbs, it seems.

Carpenter. Your limbs will soon be in motion elsewhere, if you do not
keep quiet.

Vansen. Poor mice! The master of the house procures a new cat, and ye
are straight in despair! The difference is very trifling; we shall get
on as we did before, only be quiet.

Carpenter. You are an insolent knave.

Vansen. Gossip! Let the duke alone. The old cat looks as though he had
swallowed devils, instead of mice, and could not now digest them. Let
him alone, I say; he must eat, drink, and sleep, like other men. I am
not afraid if we only watch our opportunity, At first he makes quick
work Of it; by-and-by, however, he too will find that it is pleasanter
to live in the larder, among flitches of bacon, and to rest by night,
than to entrap a few solitary mice in the granary. Go to! I know the
stadtholders.

Carpenter. What such a fellow can say with impunity! Had I said such a
thing, I should not hold myself safe a moment.

Vansen. Do not make yourselves uneasy! God in heaven does not trouble
himself about you, poor worms, much less the Regent.

Jetter. Slanderer!

Vansen. I know some for whom it would be better if, instead of their own
high spirits, they had a little tailor's blood in their veins.

Carpenter. What mean you by that?

Vansen. Hum! I mean the count.

Jetter. Egmont! What has he to fear?

Vansen. I'm a poor devil, and could live a whole year round on what he
loses in a single night; yet he would do well to give me his revenue for
a twelvemonth, to have my head upon his shoulders for one quarter of an
hour.

Jetter. You think yourself very clever; yet there is more sense in the
hairs of Egmont's head, than in your brains.

Van