ll 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.

_Bar_. Now to be patient
Were to be treacherous: trust once his counsaile
That never yet hath faild you. Make him know
That any limb of this our reverend Senate
In powre is not beneath him. As we sitt
Ile yeild you further reasons; i'the meane time
Commaund him by the Officers of the Court
Not to presse in untill your Lordships pleasure
Be made knowne to him.

_Vand_. 'Tis most requisite.

_Leid_. And for the honour of the Court.

_Vand_. Goe on;
You have my voice.

_Bre_. And mine;--yet wee'll proceed
As judgement shall direct us.

_Vand_. 'Tis my purpose.

_Bar_. In this disgrace I have one foote on his neck;
Ere long Ile set the other on his head
And sinck him to the Center.

_Leid_. Looke to the dores there.

[_Exeunt_.

SCAENA 3.

_Enter[150] Pr. of Orange, Gra: William,
Collonells & Captaines_.

_Or_. I, now methincks I feele the happynes
Of being sproong from such a noble father,
That sacrifizd his honour, life and fortune
For his lov'd Cuntry. Now the blood and kindred
Of _Horne_ and _Egmont_ (Memories great Martires),
That must outlive all _Alva's_ Tirranies
And when their Stories told ev'n shake his ashes,
Methincks through theis vaines now, now at this instant,
I feele their Cuntries losse; I feele[151] too--

_Will_. All feele sencibly,
And every noble hart laments their miseries,
And every eie, that labours not with mallice,
Sees your great services and through what dangers
You have raisd those noble speritts monuments.

_Or_. What I have don I look not back to magnifie;
My Cuntry calld me to it. What I shall yet doe,
With all the industrie and strength I have lent me
And grace of heaven to guid, so it but satisfie
The expectation of the