Cap. You must pardon me,
I have commission, Sir, for what I offer,
And from those men that are your Masters, too;
At least you'll find 'em soe. You must shift your lodging,
And presently: I have a charge to see ye
Yeild yourself quietly.
Bar. Goe and tell their Lordships
I will attend to-morrow. I know my time
And how to meet their mallice without guards.
This is the Prince, the cruell Prince your Master,
The thirstie Prince of this poore Life.
Cap. Be not vext; That will not help ye, Sir.
Bar. I wilbe vext,
And such an anger I will fling amongst 'em
Shall shake the servile soules of these poore wretches
That stick his slight deservings above mine.
I charge ye draw your Guard off and disperce 'em:
I have a powre as full as theirs.
Cap. You'll find not; And I must have ye with me.
Bar. And am I subiect
That have stood the brunt of all their busines,
And when they slept watcht to secure their slombers,—
Subiect to slights, to scornes, to taynts, to tortures?
To feed one privat mallice am I betrayd?
Myne age, myne honour and my honest dealing
Sold to the hangmans Sword?
Cap. I cannot stay.
Bar. Take me
And glory in my blood, you most ungratefull;
Feed your long bloody hopes and bath your angers
In Barnavelts deservings; share my Services;
Let it be death to pitty me; to speak well of me,
The ruyn of whole famylies. When I am gon
And angry war againe shall ceize your Cuntry,
Too late remember then and cursse your follyes.
—I am ready. Farwell, Son; remember me
But not my fortune; let them cry that shall want me.
Cap. No man come neere on paine of death: away with him.
[Exeunt.