The malcontent. By Iohn Marston. 1604

SCENA QVINTA.

Enter Mendoza with three or foure sutors.

Mend.

Leaue your suites with me, I can and will: attend my secretarie, leaue me.

Mal.

Mendoza harke yee, harke yee, You are a treache∣rous villaine, God buye yee.

Mend.

Out you base borne rascall.

M•…•…l.

We are all the sonnes of heauen though a Tripe wife were our mother; a you whore-sonne hot rainde hee Marmoset, Egistus didst euer here of one Egistus?

Mend.

Gistus?

Mal.

I Egistus, he was a filthy incontinent Fleshmonger, such a one as thou art.

Mend.

Out grumbling roage.

Mal.

Orestes, beware Orestes.

Mend.

Out beggar.

Mal.

I once shall rise,

Mend.

Thou rise?

Mal.

I at the resurrection. No vulgar seede but once may rise and shall, No King so huge, but fore he die may fall.

Exit.

Mend.

Now good Elizium, what a delicious heauen is it for a mā to be in a Princes fauour? ô sweet God, ô pleasure! ô Fottune! ô all thou best of life? what should I thinke? what say? what do? to be a fauorite? a minion? to haue a generall timerous respect▪ obserue a man, a statefull sci∣lence in his presence: solitarinesse in his absence, a con∣fused ham and busie murmure of obsequious suters trai∣ning him; the cloth held vp, and waye proclaimd before him; Petitionarie vassailes licking the pauement with their slauish knees, whilst some odde pallace Lampree∣les that ingender with Snakes, and are full of eyes on both sides with a kinde of insinuating humblenesse fixe all their lights vpon his browe: O blessed state what a

rauishing prospect doth the Olympus of fauor yeeld; Death, I cornute the Duke: sweete women, most sweet Ladies, nay Angels; by heauen he is more accursed then a Diuell that hates you, or is hated by you, and happier then a God that loues you, or is beloued by you; you preseruers of mankind, life blood of society, who would liue, nay who can liue without you? O Paradice, how maiesticall is your austerer presence? how imperiouslie chaste is your more modest face? but O! how full of rauishing attraction is your pretty, petulant, languishing, laciuiously-composed countenance: these amarous smiles, those soule-warming sparkling glan∣ces; ardent as those flames that sing'd the world by heedlesse Phaeton; in body how delicate, in soule how witty, in dis∣course how pregnant, in life how wary, in fauours how iu∣d•…•…ious, in day how sociable, and in night how? O pleasure vn•…•…tterable, indeed it is most certaine, one man cannot de∣serue onely to inioy a beautious woman: but a Dutches? in dispight of Phoebus Ile write a Sonnet instantly in praise of her.

Exit.