Leid. Who commaunds the Port?
Vand. The English.
Leid. Ten towsand devills! Odd's sacrament! a meere trick to betray us.
Vand. We can discover none behind.
Leid. A trick: Those English are the men borne to undooe us.
Enter Messenger.[162]
Mess. Arme, arme, and now stand to your ancient freedoms! Three troope of horse, ten Companies of foote Are enterd now the Port.
Leid. I told ye, Gentlemen.
Mess. The English make a stand upon the new Companies, Ready to charge 'em if they stirr.
Leid. Oh mischief! All our designes are crackt, layed open, ruynd: Let's looke if any cure remaine. O devill!