_Flo._ O my lov'd Father, Before I knew you were so, by instinct, Nature had taught me, to look on your wants, Not as a stranger's: and I know not how, What you call'd charity, I thought the payment Of some religious debt, nature stood bound for; And last of all, when your magnificent bounty In my low ebb of fortune, had brought in A flood of blessings, though my threatning wants And fear of their effects, still kept me stupid, I soon found out, it was no common pity That led you to it.

_Ger._ Think of this hereafter When we with joy may call it to remembrance, There will be a time, more opportune, than now To end our story, with all circ.u.mstances, I add this only: when we fled from _Wolfort_ I sent you into _England_, and there placed you With a brave _Flanders_ Merchant, call'd rich _Goswin_, A man supplyed by me unto that purpose, As bound by oath never to discover you, Who dying, left his name and wealth unto you As his reputed Son, and yet receiv'd so; But now, as _Florez_, and a Prince, remember The countreys, and the subjects general good Must challenge the first part in your affection: The fair maid, whom you chose to be your wife, Being so far beneath you, that your love Must grant she's not your equal.

_Flo._ In descent Or borrowed glories from dead Ancestors, But for her beauty, chast.i.ty, and all vertues Ever remembred in the best of women, A Monarch might receive from her, not give, Though she were his Crowns purchase; in this only Be an indulgent Father: in all else, Use your authority.

_Enter_ Hubert, Hemskirk, Wolfort, Bertha, _and_ Souldiers.

_Hub._ Sir, here be two of 'em, The Father and the Son, the rest you shall have As fast as I can rouze them.

_Ger._ Who's this? _Wolfort_?

_Wol._ I Criple, your feigned crutches will not help you, Nor patch'd disguise that hath so long conceal'd you, It's now no halting: I must here find _Gerrard_, And in this Merchants habit, one call'd _Florez_ Who would be an Earl.

_Ger._ And is, wert thou a subject.

_Flo._ Is this that Traitor _Wolfort_?

_Wol._ Yes, but you Are they that are betrai'd: _Hemskirk_.

_Ber._ My _Goswin_ Turn'd Prince? O I am poorer by this greatness, Than all my former jealousies or misfortunes.

_Florez._ _Gertrude_?

_Wol._ Stay Sir, you were to day too near her, You must no more aim at those easie accesses, Less you can do't in air, without a head, Which shall be suddenly tri'd.

_Ber._ O take my heart, first, And since I cannot hope now to enjoy him, Let me but fall a part of his glad ransom.

_Wol._ You know not your own value, that entreat.

_Ger._ So proud a fiend as _Wolfort_.

_Wol._ For so lost A thing as _Florez_.

_Flo._ And that would be so Rather than she should stoop again to thee; There is no death, but's sweeter than all life, When _Wolfort_ is to give it: O my _Gertrude_, It is not that, nor Princedom that I goe from, It is from thee, that loss includeth all.

_Wol._ I, if my young Prince knew his loss, he would say so, Which that he yet may chew on, I will tell him This is no _Gertrude_, nor no _Hemskirks_ Niece, Nor _Vandunks_ Daughter: this is _Bertha_, _Bertha_, The heir of _Brabant_, she that caus'd the war, Whom I did steal, during my treaty there, In your minority, to raise my self; I then fore-seeing 'twould beget a quarel, That, a necessity of my employment, The same employment, make me master of strength, That strength, the Lord of _Flanders_, so of _Brabant_, By marrying her: which had not been to doe Sir, She come of years, but that the expectation First of her Fathers death, r.e.t.a.r.ded it, And since the standing out of _Bruges_, where _Hemskirk_ had hid her, till she was near lost: But Sir, we have recover'd her: your Merchantship May break, for this was one of your best bottoms I think.

_Ger._ Insolent Devil!

_Enter_ Hubert, with Jaqueline, Ginks, _and_ Costin.

_Wol._ Who are these, _Hemskirk_?

_Hem._ More, more, Sir.

_Flo._ How they triumph in their treachery!

_Hem._ Lord _Arnold_ of _Benthusin_, this Lord _Costin_, This _Jaqueline_ the sister unto _Florez_.

_Wol._ All found? why here's brave game, this was sport royall, And puts me in thought of a new kind of death for 'em.

Hunts-man, your horn: first wind me _Florez_ fall, Next _Gerrards_, then his Daughter _Jaquelins_, Those rascals, they shall dye without their rights: Hang 'em _Hemskirk_ on these trees; I'le take The a.s.say of these my self.

_Hub._ Not here my Lord, Let 'em be broken up upon a scaffold, 'Twill shew the better when their arbour's made.

_Ger._ Wretch, art thou not content thou hast betrai'd us, But mock us too?

_Ginks._ False _Hubert_, this is monstrous.

_Wol._ _Hubert_?

_Hem._ Who, this?

_Ger._ Yes this is _Hubert_, _Wolfort_, I hope he has helpt himself to a tree.

_Wol._ The first, The first of any, and most glad I have you Sir, I let you goe before, but for a train; Is't you have done this service?

_Hub._ As your Hunts-man, But now as _Hubert_; save your selves, I will, The _Wolf's_ afoot, let slip; kill, kill, kill, kill.

_Enter with a drum_ Van-dunk, Merchants, Higgen, Prig, Ferret, Snap.

_Wol._ Betray'd?

_Hub._ No, but well catch'd: and I the Huntsman.

_Van-d._ How do you _Wolfort_? Rascal, good knave _Wolfort_, I speak it now without the Rose, and _Hemskirk_, Rogue _Hemskirk_, you that have no niece, this Lady Was stoln by you, and ta'ne by you, and now Resign'd by me, to the right owner here: Take her my Prince.

_Flo._ Can this be possible, Welcom my love, my sweet, my worthy love.

_Van-d._ I ha' giv'n you her twice: now keep her better, and thank Lord _Hubert_, that came to me in _Gerrards_ name, And got me out, with my brave Boyes, to march Like _Caesar_, when he bred his Commentaries, So I, to bread my Chronicle, came forth _Caesar Van-dunk_, & _veni, vidi, vici_, Give me my Bottle, and set down the drum; You had your tricks Sir, had you? we ha' tricks too, You stole the Lady?

_Hig._ And we led your Squadrons, Where they ha' scratch'd their leggs a little, with brambles, If not their faces.

_Prig._ Yes, and run their heads Against trees.

_Hig._ 'Tis Captain _Prig_, Sir.

_Prig._ And Coronel _Higgen_.

_Hig._ We have fill'd a pit with your people, some with leggs, Some with arms broken, and a neck or two I think be loose.

_Prig._ The rest too, that escap'd, Are not yet out o'the briars,

_Hig._ And your horses, Sir, Are well set up in _Bruges_ all by this time: You look as you were not well Sir, and would be Shortly let blood; do you want a scarf?

_Van-d._ A halter.

_Ger._ 'Twas like your self, honest, and n.o.ble _Hubert_: Can'st thou behold these mirrors all together, Of thy long, false, and b.l.o.o.d.y usurpation?

Thy tyrrannous proscription, and fresh treason: And not so see thy self, as to fall down And sinking, force a grave, with thine own guilt, As deep as h.e.l.l, to cover thee and it?