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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 . . .
