THE TRAGEDY OF SIR JOHN VAN OLDEN BARNAVELT.
Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt.
Actus Primus.
SCAENA PRIMA.
Enter Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck, and Grotius.
Bar. The Prince of Orange now, all names are lost els! That hees alone the Father of his Cuntrie! Said you not so?
Leid. I speake the peoples Language.
Bar. That to his arme and sword the Provinces owe Their flourishing peace? that hees the armyes soule By which it moves to victorie?
Mod. So 'tis said, Sir.
Leid. Nay, more; that without him dispaire and ruyn Had ceazd on all and buried quick our safeties.
Gro. That had not he in act betterd our counsailes
And in his execution set them off,
All we designd had ben but as a tale
Forgot as soone as told.
Leid. And with such zeale
This is deliverd that the Prince beleeves it;
For Greatnes, in her owne worth confident,
Doth never waigh but with a covetous hand
His lightest meritts, and who add to the scale
Seldom offend.
Gro. 'Tis this that swells his pride
Beyond those lymitts his late modestie
Ever observd. This makes him count the Soldier
As his owne creature, and to arrogate
All prosperous proceedings to himself;
Detracts from you and all men, you scarce holding
The second place.
Bar. When I gave him the first:
I robd myself, for it was justly mine.
The labourinthes of pollicie I have trod
To find the clew of safetie, for my Cuntrie
Requird a head more knowing and a courage
As bold as his,—though I must say 'tis great.
His stile of Excellencie was my guift;
Money, the strength and fortune of the war,
The help of England and the aide of Fraance,
I only can call mine: and shall I then,
Now in the sun-set of my daie of honour,
When I should passe with glory to my rest
And raise my Monument from my Cuntries praises,
Sitt downe and with a boorish patience suffer
The harvest that I labourd for to be
Anothers spoile? the peoples thancks and praises,
Which should make faire way for me to my grave,
To have another object? the choice fruites
Of my deepe projects grace anothers Banquet?
No; this ungratefull Cuntry, this base people,
Most base to my deserts, shall first with horrour
Know he that could defeat the Spanish counsailes
And countermyne their dark works, he that made
The State what 'tis, will change it once againe
Ere fall with such dishonour.
Mod. Be advisd, Sir;
I love you as a friend, and as a wise man
Have ever honourd you: be as you were then,
And I am still the same. Had I not heard
Theis last distemperd words, I would have sworne
That in the making up of Barnavelt
Reason had only wrought, passion no hand in't.
But now I find you are lesse then a man,
Lesse then a common man, and end that race
You have so long run strongly like a child,
For such a one old age or honours surfeyts
Againe have made you.
Bar. This to me?
Mod. To you, Sir:
For is't not boyish folly (youthfull heat
I cannot call it) to spume downe what all
His life hath labourd for? Shall Barnavelt
That now should studie how to die, propound
New waies to get a name? or keep a being
A month or two to ruyn whatsoever
The good succes of forty yeeres employment
In the most serious affaires of State
Have raisd up to his memory? And for what?
Glory, the popular applause,—fine purchase
For a gray beard to deale in!
Gro. You offend him.
Mod. 'Tis better then to flatter him as you doe.
Be but yourself againe and then consider
What alteration in the State can be
By which you shall not loose. Should you bring in
(As heaven avert the purpose and the thought
Of such a mischief) the old Tirrany
That Spaine hath practisd, do you thinck you should be
Or greater then you are or more secure
From danger? Would you change the goverment,
Make it a Monarchie? Suppose this don
And any man you favourd most set up,
Shall your authoritie by him encrease?
Be not so foolishly seducd; for what
Can hope propose to you in any change
Which ev'n now you posses not?
Bar. Doe not measure My ends by yours.
Mod. I know not what you ayme at.
For thirtie yeeres (onely the name of king
You have not had, and yet your absolute powre
Hath ben as ample) who hath ben employd
In office, goverment, or embassie,
Who raisd to wealth or honour that was not
Brought in by your allowaunce? Who hath held
His place without your lycence? Your estate is
Beyond a privat mans: your Brothers, Sonnes,
Frendes, Famylies, made rich in trust and honours:
Nay, this grave Maurice, this now Prince of Orange,
Whose popularitie you weakely envy,
Was still by you commaunded: for when did he
Enter the feild but 'twas by your allowaunce?
What service undertake which you approv'd not?
What victory was won in which you shard not?
What action of his renownd in which
Your counsaile was forgotten? Yf all this then
Suffice not your ambition but you must
Extend it further, I am sorry that
You give me cause to feare that when you move next
You move to your destruction.
Bar. Yf I fall
I shall not be alone, for in my ruyns
My Enemies shall find their Sepulchers.
Modes-bargen, though in place you are my equall,
The fire of honour, which is dead in you,
Burnes hotly in me, and I will preserve
Each glory I have got, with as much care
As I acheivd it. Read but ore the Stories
Of men most fam'd for courage or for counsaile.
And you shall find that the desire of glory
(That last infirmity of noble minds)
Was the last frailty wise men ere putt of:
Be they my presidents.
Gro. 'Tis like yourself, Like Barnavelt, and in that all is spoken.
Leid. I can do something in the State of Utrecht,
And you shall find the place of Secretarie,
Which you conferd upon me there, shall be,
When you employ me, usefull.
Gro. All I am
You know you may commaund: Ile nere enquire
What 'tis you goe about, but trust your counsailes
As the Auncients did their Oracles.
Mod. Though I speak
Not as a flatterer, but a friend, propound
What may not prejudice the State, and I
Will goe as far as any.
Enter 2 Captaines.
Bar. To all my service:[143] Ere long you shall know more.—What are theis?
Leid. Captaines That raild upon the Comissary.
Bar. I remember.
1 Cap. Why, you dare charge a foe i'the head of his troope, And shake you to deliver a petition To a statesman and a frend?
2 Cap. I need not seek him,
He has found me; and, as I am a soldier,
His walking towards me is more terrible
Then any enemies march I ever mett with.
1 Cap. We must stand to it.
Bar. You, Sir, you?
2 Cap. My Lord.
Bar. As I use this I waigh you: you are he
That when your Company was viewd and checkd
For your dead paies,[144] stood on your termes of honour,
Cryde out "I am a Gentleman, a Commaunder,
And shall I be curbd by my lords the States,"
(For thus you said in scorne) "that are but Merchants,
Lawyers, Apothecaries, and Physitians,
Perhaps of worser ranck"? But you shall know, Sir,
They are not such, but Potentates and Princes
From whom you take pay.
1 Cap. This indeed is stately: Statesmen, d'you call 'em?
2 Cap. I beseech your Lordship: 'Twas wine and anger.
Bar. No, Sir; want of dutie:
But I will make that tongue give him the lye
That said soe, drunck or sober; take my word for't.
Your Compaine is cast: you had best complaine
To your Great Generall, and see if he
Can of himself maintaine you,—Come, Modes-bargen.
[Exeunt Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, and Grotius,
Leid. I am sorry for you, Captaine, but take comfort: I love a Soldier, and all I can doe To make you what you were, shall labour for you. And so, good morrow, Gentlemen. [Exit.
1 Cap. Yet theres hope; For you have one friend left.
2 Cap. You are deceivd, Sir, And doe not know his nature that gave promise Of his assistance.
1 Cap. Who is't?
2 Cap. Leidenberck.
One of the Lords, the States, and of great powre too;
I would he were as honest. This is he
That never did man good, and yet no Suitor
Ever departed discontented from him.
Hee'll promise any thing: I have seene him talke
At the Church dore with his hat of to a Begger
Almost an houre togeather, yet when he left him
He gave him not a doyt. He do's profes
To all an outward pitty, but within
The devills more tender: the great plague upon him!
Why thinck I of him? he's no part of that
Must make my peace.
1 Cap. Why, what course will you take then?
2 Cap. A Bribe to Barnavelts wiffe, or a kind wench For my yong lord his Son, when he has drunck hard. There's no way els to doo't.
1 Cap. I have gold good store
You shall not want that; and if I had thought on't
When I left London, I had fitted you
For a convenient Pagan.
2 Cap. Why, is there Such store they can be spard?
1 Cap.[145] … … …
2 Cap. I thanck you, Sir.
[Exeunt.
SCAENA 2.
Enter[146] Barnavelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberck,
Grotius, and Hogebeets.
Bar. The States are sitting: all that I can doe
Ile say in little; and in me theis Lords
Promise as much. I am of your belief
In every point you hold touching religion,
And openly I will profes myself
Of the Arminian sect.
Gro. You honour it.
Hog.[147] And all our praires and service.
Bar. Reverend man
Your loves I am ambitious of. Already
'Tis knowne I favour you, and that hath drawne
Libells against me; but the stinglesse hate
Of those that wryte them I contempne.
Hog. They are worthie Of nothing but contempt.
Bar. That I confes, too;
But yet we must expect much opposition
Ere your opinions be confirmd. I know
The Prince of Orange a sworne enemie
To your affections: he has vowd to crosse you,
But I will still stand for you. My advice is
That, having won the Burgers to your partie,
Perswade them to enroll new Companies
For their defence against the Insolence
Of the old Soldiers garisond at Utrecht.
Yet practise on them, too, and they may urge this:
That since they have their pay out of that Province,
Justice requires they should be of their partie:
All that is don in Utrecht shalbe practisd
In Roterdam and other Townes I name not.
Farther directions you shall have hereafter,
Till when I leave you.
Gro. With all zeale and care We will performe this. [Exit.[148]
Leid. This foundation Is well begun.
Gro. And may the building prosper.
Mod. Yet let me tell you, where Religion Is made a cloke to our bad purposes They seldom have succes.
Bar. You are too holly:
We live now not with Saincts but wicked men,
And any thriving way we can make use of,
What shape so ere it weares, to crosse their arts,
We must embrace and cherish; and this course
(Carrying a zealous face) will countenaunce
Our other actions. Make the Burgers ours,
Raise Soldiers for our guard, strengthen our side
Against the now unequall opposition
Of this Prince that contemns us;[149] at the worst,
When he shall know there are some Regiments
We may call ours, and that have no dependaunce
Upon his favour, 'twill take from his pride
And make us more respected.
Mod. May it prove so.
Enter Bredero, Vandort, Officers.
Bre. Good day, my Lord.
Vand. Good Mounseiur Advocate, You are an early stirrer.
Bar. 'Tis my dutie To wayte your Lordships pleasure: please you to walke.
Bre. The Prince is wanting, and this meeting being Touching the oath he is to take, 'twere fitt That we attend him.
Bar. That he may set downe
What he will sweare, prescribing lymitts to us!
We need not add this wind by our observaunce
To sailes too full alredy. Oh, my Lords,
What will you doe? Have we with so much blood
Maintaind our liberties, left the allegeaunce
(How justly now it is no time to argue)
To Spaine, to offer up our slavish necks
To one that only is what we have made him?
For, be but you yourselves, this Prince of Orange
Is but as Barnavelt, a Servant to
Your Lordships and the State; like me maintaind;
The pomp he keepes, at your charge: will you then
Wayt his prowd pleasure, and in that confes,
By daring to doe nothing, that he knowes not—
You have no absolute powre?
Van. I never sawe The Advocate so mov'd.
Bar. Now to be patient
Were to be treacherous: trust once his counsaile
That never yet hath faild you. Make him know
That any limb of this our reverend Senate
In powre is not beneath him. As we sitt
Ile yeild you further reasons; i'the meane time
Commaund him by the Officers of the Court
Not to presse in untill your Lordships pleasure
Be made knowne to him.
Vand. 'Tis most requisite.
Leid. And for the honour of the Court.
Vand. Goe on; You have my voice.
Bre. And mine;—yet wee'll proceed As judgement shall direct us.
Vand. 'Tis my purpose.
Bar. In this disgrace I have one foote on his neck; Ere long Ile set the other on his head And sinck him to the Center.
Leid. Looke to the dores there.
[Exeunt.