University of Virginia Library

Scene 1.

Scene the Palace, present the Prince, Fagel, Harcourt, Spinosa, Pedro. &c.
Prince.
So great an Army 'fore so small a Town,
Seems that by numbers they design to Conquer;
As yet through all the sad Calamities
Of Fire and Blood, Mons resolutely stands
The Object of their hate—but Fagel Tell,
What succours from abroad must we expect?

Fagel.
Enough, if timely they assistance lend,
For th'English Monarch our once blest Deliverer,
With fifty thousand Men of the Confederates,
Lye now encampt near Brussels, thence, to Hall;
They march, where they expect some other Troops
To joyn them, which, with Regiments of Scotch and Spanish
Expected, likewise will increase the Army
To seventy thousand choice selected Souldiers.
I mention not their Mortars, nor their Cannon,
Which all together make a glorious Army.

Prince.
May Heaven succeed their Arms; but all this while
How stand Affairs within our selves? I fear
The Souldiers harass'd with continual Watchings,
And Burghers with their Losses half distracted,
May have some inclinations to surrender,
To 'rid themselves of this uneasiness.

Fagel.
My Lord, I only for the Souldiers speak,
They are unanimous, and every Man
Will to the last defend the Cities Glory
Against the bold Encroachments of the French.

Harcourt.
The Burghers too my Lord, to all Appearance
Are resolutely brave and bold in Action.
I know not how their Wives Endearments may
Soften their Minds, and lead their Wills astray.

A Great Shout heard.
Enter a Messenger.
Prince.
The News.

Messeng.
My Lord, ill Tidings must salute your Ears,
The Half-Moon of the Horn-work next the Gate
Of Barlemont being widen'd with their Cannon,
Was just now with about Seven thousand Men
Storm'd with that fury, that in little time
The French became the Masters of the Fort,
But in the three Attaques they gave the Place;
They lost at sev'ral times Three thousand Men.

Prince.
This sad Relation checks me not at all.

Fagel.
Nor me.

Harcourt.
Nor me.

Pedro.
Nor any whose great mind
Is plac'd above the rude Assaults of Fortune.

Prince.
Fagel and you Spinosa—to the City
Hasten with speed and animate the Burghers;
Their Drooping Spirits may perhaps need Cordials.
Harcourt and Pedro—to your Posts advance,
And let the Souldiers want no due Encouragement,
Whilst I about the Town in different Quarters
Comfort, advise, and order Necessaries;
But stop our Ears to all Capitulation.

Fagel.
Forbid it Heaven! No, first let glorious Mons
Be made the Seat of one continued Fire,
And ev'ry Souldier perish in the Flame,
Rather than tamely yield our Lives so, and Fortunes
To French discretion.—If I hear one whisper,
Where ever I resort, of tame Surrender,
By Heav'n I'le split the Skull of such a Man,
Were he my Brother, or what's more my Friend.