_Val_. This kind surrender shewes you are a Prince,
Worthy to be an Angell in the world
Of immortalitie,
Which these cursed creatures never can attaine.
But that this world may know how much I hate
This cruell, base oppression of the poore,
First, I enjoyne you for the wrongs you have done,
Make restitution; and because your goods
Are not sufficient so to satisfie,
I doe condemn your bodies to the Mynes,
Where live like golden drudges all your lives,
In digging of the mettall you best love:
Death is your due, but for your noble race
This gentle sentence I impose on you:
The Duke succeeding shall behold it done.
_Duke_. Who's that, my love?
_Valen_. Kind _Fredericke_, your sonne:
The interest that your grace hath given to me,
I freely doe impart.
_Duke_. We doe agree,
To what my Dutchesse please.
_Valen_. The state is thine,
Thy Uncles sentence, _Fredericke_, shall be mine.
_Fred_. Beare them away, what you have said shall stand,
Whilst I have interest in this new given land.
_Hat_. We doe receive our judgements, with a curse.
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