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Why so ?
I think 'twill out.
'Twill surely out.
The frighten'd fox sits fast; Folly with fear will flutter still and cackle. [Aloud). This will be known. I am for rising now, Slaying Vauclaire and Roosdyk in their beds Before they nose it, sounding through the streets King Charles's pardon and the town's submission, And so to present issue with it all.
Mercy! what foolishness will young men talk !
Under your favour-old men too at times.
De Vry, a word. I marvel at thy rashness;
In good time, Verstolken; The axe's edge is turn'd towards us now, And what shall save us, if this mooncalf here Should let his errand out?
Call you me mooncalf? I am an honest man; I dare you, sir, To signify me other.
Hold thy peace.
The double were too few
To be divided.
More than some two thousand Would hardly march on Ypres, should we thrive ; And if they did, we'd bowl them down like nine-pins.
He'll never waste his forces upon us
Enter a Sixth Burgher.
Away, away! Vauclaire has word of all you do; a troop Despatch'd by Van den Bosch to give him aid Is riding into town. Van Muck's commission Is whisper'd of, and loudly.
There now, there!
Aye, get thee hence;
I will, your worships.
[Exit, but returns immediately.
Please you, sir, the street Is full of men-at-arms that come this way.
BURGOMASTER. I said so ; there! and still
hearken'd not! Oh Time and Tide! Oh wala-wa! Oh me!
What shall we do?
Van Muck, stand fast; they come : It is Vauclaire himself.
Say you sell pots.
Enter VAUCLAIRE and ROOSDYK followed by a troop of
Ah, Master Burgomaster, here you are !
Make fast the doors.
And thou, Verstolken-nay ! Here's Goswin Hex, and Drimmelen, and Breero! And thou, De Vry-Van Rosendaal, and thou ! How rare a thing is faith! Alas, my masters ! Here is a work you put me to !
Stand forth, Master Van Muck! where are you ?—which is he?
What is it, sirs, you charge us with ?
What think ye? Say treason, and I'll call you conjurors.
orders-stand thou forth, Van MuckAnd I must needs obey them. Say, what art thou ?
No, sirs, I am not a villain. I am a travelling trader ; I sell pots.
Thyself—thou sell'st thyself-a precious vessel !
Put irons on them all, and give Van Muck
Hold off! what's this?
I am your master.
Knock him on the head ; Bid him be patient.
I am amazed at this!
Sirs, hear me, oh!
Gag me this grey-beard !
The Stadt-house. You shall all be heard Except Van Muck, whose treason is too rank To be excused. I must obey my orders ; First to the rack they doom him, then to the gallows.
Sirs, grant me mercy; I am not a traitor ;
That shall you, or the rack