Queene,
Our Patronesse of happie memory,
_Elizabeth_ of _England_; twyce in _Fraunce_
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 gu