Bre. 'Tis certaine his proceedings in this busines,
As in all els, have byn most wise and constant
And waited on with full wingd Expedition:
How many Townes armd with theis new Pretenders,
Stird up and steeld by founders of new doctrines,
The collour to their Cause, hath he (and sodainely)
Disarmd againe and setled in obedience,
And without bloodshed, Lords, without the Sword
And those Calamities that shake a kingdom:
So gently and without noyse he has performd this
As if he had don it in a dreame.
Vand. Most certaine,
He has run through a busines will much add to him
And set his vertues of with greater Lustre:
But that a man so wise as Mounseiur Barnavelt,
So trusted, so rewarded for his Service,
And one that built the ladder to his honour
Of open, honest actions, strong and straight still,
Should now be doubted!
Bred. I know not nor I wish it not, But if he have a fowle hart't has byn hid long, And cunningly that poyson has byn carried.
Vand. But why a father to theis new professions?
Why should he strengthen those opinions
That all true learning much laments and greives at
And sincks the soules sweet union into ruyn?
Why theis, my lords? and why in every Garrison,
Unles he had an end that shot at evill,
Should he so strongly plant theis fire-brands
And through his powre add daylie to their nombers?
Bred. Most sure he is suspected, strongly suspected
But that a man of his great trust and busines
Should sinck or suffer under doubts or whispers
Or loose his honour by an others envy,
Is not faire play nor honest. The Prince of Orange,
Most thinck, affects him not, nor he the Prince.
That either of their angry wills should prove
A lawful act to ruyn one another,
And not a medium of more open Justice,
More equall and more honorable, step in,
Man had no powre to stand nor fall with honour.
If he be falce, honest and upright proofes
Will ripen the Imposture.
Enter Barnavelt and his Son.
[1 Lord.[166] Here he comes, sir.]
Vand. Methincks he beares not in his Countenaunce
The fulnes of that grave and constant sperit,
Nor in his eye appeeres that heat and quicknes
He was wont to move withall.—Salute, and counsell:
Let's leave him to his thoughts.
Son. They mind ye not: Now, as I have a soule, they looke not on ye.
Bar. My noble Lords, what is't appeeres upon me
So ougly strange you start and fly my Companie?
What plague sore have ye spide, what taynt in honour,
What ill howre in my life so cleere deserving
That rancks in this below your fellowships?
For which of all my cares, of all my watches,
My services (too many and too mightie
To find rewards) am I thus recompenced,
Not lookd on, not saluted, left forgotten
Like one that came to petition to your honours,—
Over the shoulder sleighted?