Field, and Phillip
Massinger, was entered on the Stationers' Books 8th April, 1654, but not
printed. This play must have been written between 1617 and 1619, while
Field was connected with the King's company, and undoubtedly referred to
the murder of John Van Wely, the Jeweller of Amsterdam, by John of
Paris, the confidential groom of Prince Maurice, in 1619. It is _prima
facie_ likely that the same authors would be employed on both plays.
Field, Daborne, Dekker and Fletcher are the only authors known to have
written in conjunction with Massinger; and Dekker and Daborne are out of
the question for that company at that date. We are now enabled to fix
the date of the 'Fatal Dowry,' by Field and Massinger, as c. 1618."

THE TRAGEDY OF SIR JOHN VAN OLDEN BARNAVELT.

Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt.

_Actus Primus_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck, and Grotius_.

_Bar_. The Prince of _Orange_ now, all names are lost els!
That hees alone the Father of his Cuntrie!
Said you not so?

_Leid_. I speake the peoples Language.

_Bar_. That to his arme and sword the Provinces owe
Their flourishing peace? that hees the armyes soule
By which it moves to victorie?

_Mod_. So 'tis said, Sir.

_Leid_. Nay, more; that without him dispaire and ruyn
Had ceazd on all and buried quick our safeties.

_Gro_. That had not he in act betterd our counsailes
And in his execution set them off,
All we designd had ben but as a tale
Forgot as soone as told.

_Leid_. And with such zeale
This is deliverd that the Prince beleeves it;
For Greatnes, in her owne worth confident,
Doth never waigh but with a covetous hand
His lightest meritts, and who add to the scale
Seldom offend.

_Gro_. 'Tis this that swells his pride
Beyond those lymitts his late modestie
Ever observd. This makes him count the Soldier
As his owne creature, and to arrogate
All prosperous proceedings to himself;
Detracts from you and all men, you scarce holding
The second place.

_Bar_. When I gave him the first:
I robd myself, for it was justly mine.
The labourinthes of pollicie I have trod
To find the clew of safetie, for my Cuntrie
Requird a head more knowing and a courage
As bold as his,--though I must say 'tis great.
His stile of Excellencie was my guift;
Money, the strength and fortune of the war,
The help of _England_ and the aide of _Fraance_,
I only can call mine: and shall I then,
Now in the sun-set of my d