1 _Cap_. And while there is Lead Upon a house, or any Soldier master But of a doyt: when that is gon, expect That we will make you sport, or leave our lives To witness we were faithfull.--Come, Lieutenant, Let us draw up the Companies; and then Charge on us when you please. [_Exeunt_.
_Bar_. Oh, I am lost with anger! are we falne So lowe from what we were, that we dare heare This from our Servants and not punish it? Where is the terrour of our names, our powre That _Spaine_ with feare hath felt in both his _Indies_? We are lost for ever, and from freemen growne Slaves so contemptible as no worthie Prince, That would have men, not sluggish Beasts, his Servants, Would ere vouchsafe the owning. Now, my frends, I call not on your furtherance to preserve The lustre of my actions; let me with them Be nere remembred, so this government Your wives, your lives and liberties be safe: And therefore, as you would be what you are, Freemen and masters of what yet is yours, Rise up against this Tirant, and defend With rigour what too gentle lenitie Hath almost lost.
_Leid_. Ile to the new raisd Soldiers And make them firme.
_Giles_. Ile muster up the Burgers And make them stand upon their guard.
_Bar_. Ile back to the _Hage_ And something there Ile doe that shall divert The torrent that swells towards us, or sinck in it; And let this Prince of _Orange_ seat him sure, Or he shall fall when he is most secure.
_Enter Holderus, Dutch-woemen and an English Gentlew_.
1 _D. W_. Here come the Sisters: that's an _English_ Gentlewoman, Let's pray for hir Conversion.
2 _D. W_. You are wellcom, Lady, And your comming over hether is most happy; For here you may behold the generall freedom We live and traffique in, the ioy of woemen. No emperious _Spanish_ eye governes our actions, Nor _Italian_ jealouzie locks up our meetings: We are ourselves our owne disposers, masters; And those that you call husbands are our Servants.
3 _D. W_. Your owne Cuntry breedes ye hansom, maintaines ye brave, But with a stubborne hand the husbands awe ye: You speake but what they please, looke where they point ye, And though ye have some libertie 'tis lymitted.
4 _D. W_. Which cursse you must shake of. To live is nothing; To live admird and lookd at,--poore deservings But to live soe, so free you may commaund, Lady, Compell, and there raigne Soveraigne.