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<Text id=FleBarn>
<Author>Fletcher, John</Author>
<Title>Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt</Title>
<editor>W. P. Frijlinck</editor><role>ed.</role>
<pub>Amsterdam: Van Dorssen, H.G., 1922</pub>
<Date>1619</Date>
<body>
<loc><locdoc>FleBarn1.1</locdoc>
<div0 type=act n=1>
<div1 type=scene n=1>
(BAR:M:1:) <i>Actus pri9: Scaea. pria</i>.
<i>Enter Barnauelt, Modes-bargen, Leidenberch</i>,
<i>Vandermitten</i>.
<i>Bar</i>. The <i>Prince</i> of <i>Orange</i> now, all names are lost els
that hee's alone the Father of his Cuntrie?,
said you not soe?
<i>Leid</i>. I speake the peoples Language
<i>Bar</i>. That to his Arme, & Sword, the <i>Prouinces</i> owe
their flourishing peace?, That hee's the Armyes soule
by which it moves to Victorie?
<i>Mod</i>. So 'tis said, Sr.
<i>Leid</i>. nay: more: that without him, dispaire, and ruyn(n)
had ceaizd on all, and buried quick our safeties.
<i>Vand</i>. That not had he in Act, betterd or Counsailes
and in his execution set them of,
all we d . . .
