With that invincible King that worthely
(Though dead) is still’d the Great, Henry the fourth;
Once with the King of Britaine that now is: 
Yet let my greatest Enemy name the least
Of theis so high Imployments in which I
Treated without advantage, and returnd not
With proffitt, as with honour, to my Cuntry,
And let me fall beneath the worst aspersion
His mallice can throw on me.  Besides Soldiers
So often levied by my meanes for you,
Which to particularize were teadious,
Two millions and five hundred thousand pounds,
For which the Provinces stood bound, I wrought
Freely to be dischargd; the Townes they pawnd
To be deliverd up; and after all
Theis meritorious and prosperous travells
T’unyte theis States, can Barnavelt be suspected
To be the authour to undoe that knot
Which with such toyle he fastend[190].

Or.  Pawse, I beseech you,
And while you gather breath to fill the Trumpet
Of your deserts give me leave to deliver
A litle for the States and mine owne honour. 
We have heard a glorious Catalogue of your vertues
But not one vice or slip of yours rememberd;
But I will help your memory:—­who was he
That gave intelligence of my sodaine comming
To surprize Antwerpe?  They that brought the Letters
Were knowne and but from you could have no notice
Of any such design.  Who hinderd me
From rescuing of Rheinberch in the last Seige? 
Who warranted the yeilding of it up
Without necessitie to the Governour? 
Who was the cause no greater powre was sent
Against the Enemie when he past the Rhine
And tooke the Townes of Oldensell, Lingen, Groll? 
To thinck of this would give a litle vent
To the windy bladder of your vanitie
Which you have blowne to an unlymitted vastnes. 
Your Insolence to me before the Battaile
Of Flaunders I forget[191].—­
Call in Modesbargen.

Bar. [aside[192]] He a prisoner, too!  Then I am lost.

    Enter Captaine with Modesbargen.

Or.  Ha! do’s that startle you?

Bar. [aside[192]] I must collect myself.

Or.  You shall heare more.

Modesb.  O, Mounseiur Barnavelt, do we meet thus? 
I am as sorry to behold you there
As know myself a Prisoner.  Now you perceive
To what a desperate state your headlong Counsells
And rash designes have brought us:  to stand out now
Were to no purpose, for, alas, they have
Too pregnant prooffes against us.

Bar.  You that feele
The horrour of fowle guilt in your falce bosom
Confes yourself soe; my strong Inocence
To the death stands constant.

Or.  Take Modesbargen in.

[Exit Cap. and Modesb.]

Vand.  This is an impudence I never read of. 
But now wee’ll show thee, miserable man,
Such further prooffes as would call up a blush
Upon the devills cheeke.  Looke upon this,
Signd by the Governor, Chauncellor and Counsell
Of Gilderland and Zutphen, who here name thee
The roote and head of the late Schisme.