Bar.  A gentle Girle:  why should not I pray, too? 
I had nere more need.  When I am sett and gon,
What understanding can they stick up then
To fill the place I bore?  None, not a man: 
To traffick with Great Princes? none:  to deale
With all the trobles of the war?  None, certaine, no man: 
To bring in daylie treasure?  I know no man;
They cannot pick a man made up to serve ’em. 
Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly before
Myne owne weake thoughts?—­Art thou there, too?

    Enter Wife[184] and Daughter.

Wife.  Fy, fy, Sir: 
Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirements
To choake your speritts?  You have studied long enough
To serve the uses of those men that scorne ye;
’Tis time you take your ease now.

Bar.  I shall shortly; An everlasting ease, I hope.

Wife.  Why weep ye, My deere Sir? speak.

Bar.  Never till now unhappie!  Thy fruit there and my fall ripen togeather And fortune gives me heires of my disgraces.

Wife.  Take nobler thoughts.

Bar.  What will becom of thee, Wiffe,
When I am gon?  When they have gorgd their envies
With what I have, what honest hand in pitty
Will powre out to thy wants?  What noble eye
Will looke upon my Children strooke with miserie
And say ’you had a father that I honourd;
For his sake be my Brothers and my Sisters.’

Wife.  There cannot be such crueltie.

Bar.  I hope not;
Yet what so confident Sailour that heares the Sea rore,
The winds sing lowd and dreadfull, the day darkend,
But he will cry ‘a storme’! downe with his Canvas
And hull, expecting of that horrid feavour?

    Enter Son.

—­How now?  What newes?

Son.  Plucke up your hart, Sir, fairely And wither not away thus poorely from us; Be now secure:  the myst ye feard is vanishd,—­ Leidenberch’s dead.

Bar.  Dead?

Son.  Killd himself; his owne hand
Most bravely was his Justice; nor left behind him
One peece of paper to dishonour ye. 
They are all to seeke now for their Accusations.

Bar.  And is he dead? so timely, too? so truly?  Speak’t againe, Will?

Son.  Hee’s dead, Sir, if I live here.

Bar.  And his owne hand?

Son.  His hand and will performd it.

Bar.  Give me some wyne.  I find now, notwithstanding
                           [Enter Servant with wine. 
The opposition of those mindes that hate me,
A wise-man spyns his owne fate and secures it. 
Nor can I, that have powre to perswade men dye,
Want living frends to iustifie my Creadit. 
Goe in and get me meat now; invyte my frends,
I am determind to be high and merry. 
Thou hast lost thy Charge; wee’ll have another, Will;
It shall goe hard els.  The Prince of Orange now
Will find what frends I have, and of what reckning;
And when he seekes this life, he must make passage
Through thousands more and those he little dreames of.