es, I will,
The _Wolf's_ afoot, let slip; kill, kill, kill, kill.

_Enter with a drum_ Van-dunk, Merchants,
Higgen, Prig, Ferret, Snap.

_Wol._ Betray'd?

_Hub._ No, but well catch'd: and I the Huntsman.

_Van-d._ How do you _Wolfort_? Rascal, good knave _Wolfort_,
I speak it now without the Rose, and _Hemskirk_,
Rogue _Hemskirk_, you that have no niece, this Lady
Was stoln by you, and ta'ne by you, and now
Resign'd by me, to the right owner here:
Take her my Prince.

_Flo._ Can this be possible,
Welcom my love, my sweet, my worthy love.

_Van-d._ I ha' giv'n you her twice: now keep her better, and thank
Lord _Hubert_, that came to me in _Gerrards_ name,
And got me out, with my brave Boyes, to march
Like _Caesar_, when he bred his Commentaries,
So I, to bread my Chronicle, came forth
_Caesar Van-dunk_, & _veni, vidi, vici_,
Give me my Bottle, and set down the drum;
You had your tricks Sir, had you? we ha' tricks too,
You stole the Lady?

_Hig._ And we led your Squadrons,
Where they ha' scratch'd their leggs a little, with brambles,
If not their faces.

_Prig._ Yes, and run their heads
Against trees.

_Hig._ 'Tis Captain _Prig_, Sir.

_Prig._ And Coronel _Higgen_.

_Hig._ We have fill'd a pit with your people, some with leggs,
Some with arms broken, and a neck or two
I think be loose.

_Prig._ The rest too, that escap'd,
Are not yet out o'the briars,

_Hig._ And your horses, Sir,
Are well set up in _Bruges_ all by this time:
You look as you were not well Sir, and would be
Shortly let blood; do you want a scarf?

_Van-d._ A halter.

_Ger._ 'Twas like your self, honest, and noble _Hubert_:
Can'st thou behold these mirrors all together,
Of thy long, false, and bloody usurpation?
Thy tyrrannous proscription, and fresh treason:
And not so see thy self, as to fall down
And sinking, force a grave, with thine own guilt,
As deep as hell, to cover thee and it?

_Wol._ No, I can stand: and praise the toyles that took me
And laughing in them dye, they were brave snares.

_Flo._ 'Twere truer valour, if thou durst repent
The wrongs th' hast done, and live.

_Wol._ Who, I repent?
And say I am sorry? yes, 'tis the fool's language
And not for _Wolfort_.

_Van-d._ _Wolfort_, thou art a Devil,
And speakst his language, oh that I had my longing
Under this row of trees now would I hang him.

_Flo._ No let him live, until he can repent,
But banish'd from our State, that is thy doom.

_Van-d._ Then ha