_Enter Wife, Daughter, Servant with Peares_.
_Wife_. Denyde to see my Husband! ô you Tirants! And (to increase my misery) in vaine By heaven I kneeld for't, wept and kneeld in vaine To such as would, while _Barnavelt_ was himself-- But why do I remember that word 'was,' That never happie word of 'was.'
_Serv_. Good Madam, Beare (with your usuall wisdom) what is not In you to help. The strict guard's kept upon him; His State ceizd on; my Lord your Son disgracd, too, And all your frends suspected, may assure you No price beneath his head must answeare for him.
_Serv_. I sweare to you I saw him Not many howres since, and hundreds more; But yet, as one that's bound to honour him, I had rather have had assuraunce of his death Than so to have seen him.
_Serv_. I have followd him When every step he made met a Petition, And these, that are his Judges now, like Clyents Have wayted on him. The whole Court attended When he was pleasd to speake, and, with such murmours As glad Spectators in a Theater Grace their best Actors with, they ever heard him; When to have had a sight of him was held A prosperous omen; when no eye gazd on him That was not filld with admiration, not As now with scorne or pitty. His rude Guard, For proofe that they contempne all such as ayme Or hope for his release (as if he were Some prodigie or monster), each night show him To such as greive his fortune, which must be To him worse then ten thousand deaths made horrid With all the actes of Crueltie.
_Daught_. I have hope yet To see an alteration.
_Wife_. My good Servant, He has some frends left yet and powerfull ones That can doe more then weepe for him as we doe; Those I will strayt sollicite. In the meane time, That to his comfort he may know so much, Endeavour thou to have this simple present As from thy self sent to him.
_Serv_. I will hazard All that can fall upon me to effect it.
_Pro_. What makes this fellow here? Whether would ye, Sir?
_Serv_. Sir, to desire accesse unto my Lord Were to ask that I know must be denide, And therefore I forbeare it; but intreating What cannot wrong you in the graunt, I hope To find you curteous.
_Serv_. This onely: My Lord, your prisoner, for my service gave me A poore house with an Orchard in the Cuntry. The fruites of which he did not scorne to taste of In th'height of his prosperitie; but of all That pleasd his pallat there was one faire tree, On which theis Peares grew, which by his appointment Were still reservd for him, and as a Rent Due for my Living I stood bound to tender. Theis, yf you please, the last I shall pay to him, I would present him with, by what Attorney Your goodnes shall prescribe me.