EGMONT

The Prince & States will furnish ye with sto e, To feed the Army and relieve the Town. The grand objection is decided. The lesser then are easily refeld. All riots shall be death by martial law, And all commanders, shall be vigilent Over their troops, that order may he kept. Some partly your selves, some partly the Prince will pay. I will make tender of so much to them, Two months the Prince of Orange and the States, And we our selves, will pay four thousand men: If afterwards, our powers be not of use, We shall withdraw them to their Provinces, May this content you curious Citizens? What let Champagne? What was the cause? Collect by this the Spaniards cruelty, Who though occasion should not come from you, Would pick a quarrel for occasion, To sack your City, and to suck your blood, To satisfy his pride and luxury: Let Harlem Marstricht, Alst example you, And many Cities models of his wrath, Think on my Father and the County Horn, Whose tragedy, if I recount with ruth, May move the stones of Antwerp to relent They served the Spaniard as his Liegemen sworn, Yet, for they did but wish their country good, He picked a quarrel, and cut off their heads. Burghers the Spaniard waits to take your lives, That he may spoil your town, your wealth, your wive To arms to arms, o where's the Governor? Give order that your Citizens prepare, To stand upon their guard, defend themselves, For whom you trusted, turns his weapons point Upon your bosoms: all the Allemagne force, Is quite revolted, and the enemy Entering your streets: Van End that damned slave, Gives aid to Spain, and with his traitorous hand Draws in destruction, if you look not to it. Drunk in their lodgings, and in reeling forth, The Spaniards (unresisted) murder them. For honours S ke, for wretched Antwerps sake, Stand not amazed, but with courageous hearts, And forward hands, fight for your liberty. These are the sluices that have brought on us, The swelling pride and tyranny of Spain, Which Antwerp careless off, although fore-warnde By many bleeding instances about her, Could not; nay, would not be advised at all. Tell me but this, Alva and Danila both, What state is there, be it never so populare, Abounding in the height of Fortune's gifts; And all felicities of worldly Pomp, That sees sad desolation fit in tears, Upon her neighbour Cities? wars keen edge, Hath furrowed through their entrails, let them blood, In every art re that maintaineth life, Yet will not dread her danger to be near? But warm her at their fierce, sing at their sighs, Revelling in her countless vanities, As a perpetual date were set thereon. Tell me I say, you that have seen all this, And as devils, Saints in the black Kallender Of wretchedest woe may truly be set down, As Authors of these sad confusions? Do not you deem that state well worth the illes, That this remissness brought upon the rest? Alva, nor I. Egmont will with honour both live and die. Such pity Alva, as thou shewedst my Father, And Noble Horn, such thou intendest tome, Therefore proceed & never pity me. They offer at him again Alva, let forth my life, & then thou honorst m If this be granted what's your glory then? And armed man to kill and naked soul: A thousand Sickles thrust into a field, Of Summer ripened and resistless corn: A mighty tide to overrun a land; Where no defence or bank to keep it back This is your honour, this their misery, That are not conquered, but die wilfully.