Daught. I come, Sir, to entreat your Company.
Bar. I am not alone.
Daught. My Mother will not eate, Sir. —What fitt is this!
Bar. There can be no attonement:
I know the Prince: Vandort is fleshd upon me,
And Bredero, though he be of noble nature,
Dare not step in. Wher's my Son William?
His Goverment is gon, too; and the Soldier,
O, the falce Soldier! What! wouldst thou have a husband?
Goe, marry an English Captaine, and hee'll teach thee
How to defy thy father and his fortune.—
I cannot eate; I have no stomach, Girle.
Daught. Good Sir, be patient.
Bar. No news from Grotius? No flow of frends there? Hoger-beets lye still, too? —Away: ile come anon.
Daught. Now heaven preserve ye! [Exit.
Bar. A gentle Girle: why should not I pray, too?
I had nere more need. When I am sett and gon,
What understanding can they stick up then
To fill the place I bore? None, not a man:
To traffick with Great Princes? none: to deale
With all the trobles of the war? None, certaine, no man:
To bring in daylie treasure? I know no man;
They cannot pick a man made up to serve 'em.
Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly before
Myne owne weake thoughts?—Art thou there, too?
Enter Wife[184] and Daughter.
Wife. Fy, fy, Sir:
Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirements
To choake your speritts? You have studied long enough
To serve the uses of those men that scorne ye;
'Tis time you take your ease now.