Mod.  Yet let me tell you, where Religion
Is made a cloke to our bad purposes
They seldom have succes.

Bar.  You are too holly: 
We live now not with Saincts but wicked men,
And any thriving way we can make use of,
What shape so ere it weares, to crosse their arts,
We must embrace and cherish; and this course
(Carrying a zealous face) will countenaunce
Our other actions.  Make the Burgers ours,
Raise Soldiers for our guard, strengthen our side
Against the now unequall opposition
Of this Prince that contemns us;[149] at the worst,
When he shall know there are some Regiments
We may call ours, and that have no dependaunce
Upon his favour, ’twill take from his pride
And make us more respected.

Mod.  May it prove so.

    Enter Bredero, Vandort, Officers.

Bre.  Good day, my Lord.

Vand.  Good Mounseiur Advocate, You are an early stirrer.

Bar.  ’Tis my dutie To wayte your Lordships pleasure:  please you to walke.

Bre.  The Prince is wanting, and this meeting being Touching the oath he is to take, ’twere fitt That we attend him.

Bar.  That he may set downe
What he will 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.