a rare signe for a Cookes shop,
The Christmas pie.
[_Exeunt Executioners_.

_Prov_. Come; now about the rest.--Keepe the Court cleere still.

[_Exeunt Provost and Soldiers_.

2 _Cap_. What thinck you now?

1 _Cap_. Now I am afraid of him.
This prologue should portend a fatall Tragedie:
Theis examples will make 'em shake.

2 _Cap_. 'Tis well they have 'em;
Their stubbornenes and pride requires 'em greater.
The Prince strikes iust ith' nick and strikes home nobely:
This new pretending faction had fird all els;
They had floong a generall ruyn on the Cuntry.

_Enter Boyes & Burgers_.

1 _Boy_. He comes, he comes, he comes! o for a place now!

2 _Boy_. Let's climb the Battlements.

_Cap_. Away with theis rogues.

1 _Burg_. I saw the Guard goe for him: Where shall we be now?

2 _Burg_. He will make a notable Speech, I warrant him.

3 _Burg_. Let's get us neere the Skaffold.

1 _Cap_. Keep of, Turnops:
Ye come upon our Pikes els.

1 _Burg_. Pox o' theis Soldiers?
We cannot see our frends hangd in quiet for 'em.
Come, come, to th' top oth' hall.

[_Exeunt Boys & Burgers_.]

2 _Cap_. Away, good pilchers![211]
Now blow your matches and stand fast: he comes here.

1 _Cap_. And now bend all your pikes.

_Enter Provost, Barnavelt, Lords, Guard.
(A Scaffold put out) Executioner_.

_Prov_. Cleere all the Skaffold;
Let no more into th'Court; we are choakd with people.

_Bar_. You are curteous in your preparations, gentlemen,

1 _Lord_. You must ascend, Sir.

_Bar_. Feareles I will, my lords,
And, what you can inflict, as feareles suffer.
Thus high you raise me, a most glorious kindnes
For all my Cares! For my most faithfull service
For you and for the State thus ye promote me!
I thanck ye, Cuntrymen, most nobely thanck ye.
--Pull of my Gowne. Of what place are ye, frend?

_Exec_. Of _Utrich_, Sir.

_Bar_. Of _Utrich_! Wherefore, prethee,
Art thou appointed here?

_Exec_. To tell you true, Sir,
I won this place at dyce: we were three appointed.

_Bar_. Am I becom a generall game? a Rest[212]
For every Slave to pull at? Thanck ye still:
You are growne the noblest in your favours, gentlemen.
--What's that hangs there? what Coffin?

_Lord_. How it stirrs him.

2 _Lord_. The body, Sir, of _Leidenberch_[213] the Traitour.

_Bar_. The traitour?

2 _Lord_. I, the Traitour, the fowle Traitour,
Who, thou