Fiftly, yf that fayled, to take in assistaunce of some forreigne
Potentates, as Spaine or Brabant, delivering unto them Utricht,
Nunweghen, Bergen op Zone, and the Brill—
Bar. And that, with others, this was Barnavelts purpose? For so your Lordships take it.
Bred. With good reason.
Vand. Too many and strong proofes invyting us To creadit it.
Bar. Yf you will have them such,
All truth I can bring to dyvert your Lordships
From your determinate opinion that way
Will not remove them. Yet 'tis strange that man
Should labour to devide those Generall States
That had no weak hand in unyting them,—
That Barnavelt (a name you have remembered
When you have thought by whom you were mad happie)—
That Barnavelt (alowd I dare repeat it),
Who, when there was Combustion in the State,
Your Excellence, Grave William and Count Henrie,
Taking instructions for your Commaunds
From one that then ruld all; the Provinces
Refucing to bring in their Contributions
And arguing whether the West Frizelander
And Hollander had powre to raise such Tribut,
When many of the Governours stood ill
Affected to you, all our Garrisons
Not sworne then to the Generall States but others,
Which the promiscuous multitude gladly followed:
When Graves and Vendloe were held by the Spaniard
And Nunweghen with violence assaulted,
Confusion with one greedy gripe being ready
To seaze on all; then when the Sluice was lost
And all in muteny at Midleborough,
Who then rose up or durst step in before me
To doe these Cuntries service? Who then labourd
More then the now suspected Barnavelt
T'appease seditions and compound all Quarrells?
Who pacified the Malcontents? Who taught you
To stand upon your Guards and trust yourselves?
O, you forgettfull, all this I performd
And in the golden fagot of faire Concord
Bound safely up those strengthes which Mutenies,
Corruption and homebred Traitors scatterd.
Vand. This is a point you often choose to treat of, And yet some part of theis good services None will deny you.
Or. But to ingrosse all Would argue me your ward, should I give way too't, And these grave Lords your Schollers.
Bar. In the Art
Of Goverment they scornd not once to be soe,
Nor you to give me hearing: and if ever
'Twer lawful th' unthanckfull men t'upbraid
Unequall benefitts, let it not in me
Be now held glorious if I speake my best.
I have five times in regall Embassies
Byn sent the principall Agent for theis Cuntries,
And for your good have spoken face to face
With mightie Kings: twyce with that virgin Queene,
Our Patronesse of happie memory,
Elizabeth of England; twyce in Fraunce
With that invincible King that worthely
(Though dead) is still'd the Great, Henry the fourth;
Once with the King of Britaine that now is:
Yet let my greatest Enemy name the least
Of theis so high Imployments in which I
Treated without advantage, and returnd not
With proffitt, as with honour, to my Cuntry,
And let me fall beneath the worst aspersion
His mallice can throw on me. Besides Soldiers
So often levied by my meanes for you,
Which to particularize were teadious,
Two millions and five hundred thousand pounds,
For which the Provinces stood bound, I wrought
Freely to be dischargd; the Townes they pawnd
To be deliverd up; and after all
Theis meritorious and prosperous travells
T'unyte theis States, can Barnavelt be suspected
To be the authour to undoe that knot
Which with such toyle he fastend[190].
Or. Pawse, I beseech you,
And while you gather breath to fill the Trumpet
Of your deserts give me leave to deliver
A litle for the States and mine owne honour.
We have heard a glorious Catalogue of your vertues
But not one vice or slip of yours rememberd;
But I will help your memory:—who was he
That gave intelligence of my sodaine comming
To surprize Antwerpe? They that brought the Letters
Were knowne and but from you could have no notice
Of any such design. Who hinderd me
From rescuing of Rheinberch in the last Seige?
Who warranted the yeilding of it up
Without necessitie to the Governour?
Who was the cause no greater powre was sent
Against the Enemie when he past the Rhine
And tooke the Townes of Oldensell, Lingen, Groll?
To thinck of this would give a litle vent
To the windy bladder of your vanitie
Which you have blowne to an unlymitted vastnes.
Your Insolence to me before the Battaile
Of Flaunders I forget[191].—
Call in Modesbargen.
Bar. [aside[192] He a prisoner, too! Then I am lost.