Prov.  Pyn him aloft, and pin him sure.

Exec.  I warrant ye;
If ere he run away againe ile swing for him. 
This would make 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?