The malcontent. By Iohn Marston. 1604

SCEN. PRIMA.

Enter Maquarelle, knocking at the Ladies dore.

Maq.

Medam, Medam, are you stirring Medame, if you be stirring Medam, if I thought I should disturbe yee.

Page.

My Lady is vp forsooth.

Maq.

A, pretty boy, faith how old art thou?

Page.

I thinke foureteene.

Maq.

Nay, and yee be in the teens, are yee a gentleman borne, do you know me, my name is Medam Maquerelle, I lye in the old Cunny Court.

Enter Beancha and Emilia.

See heere the Ladyes.

Bean.

A faire day to yee Maquerelle.

Emili.

Is the Dutches vp yet Centinell?

Maq.

O Ladies, the most abhominable mischance, O deare Ladies the most piteous disaster, Farneze was taken last night in the Dutches Chamber: Alas the Duke catcht him and kild him.

Bean.

Was he found in bed?

Maq.

O no, but the villanous certenty is, the dore was not bolted, the tongue-tyed hatch held his peace, so the naked troth is, he was found in his shirt, whilest I like an arrand beast lay in the outward Chamber, heard nothing, and yet they came by me in the dark, and yet I felt thē not, like a sencelesse creature as I was. O beauties, looke to your buske-poynts, if not chastely, yet charily: be sure the doore be boulted: is your Lorde gone to Florence?

Bean.

Yes Maquarelle.

Maq.

I hope youle finde the discretion to purchase a fresh gowne fore his returne: Now by my troth beauties,

I would ha ye once wise: he loues ye, pish: he is witty, bub∣ble: faire proportioned, mew: nobly borne, winde; let this be still your fixt position, esteeme me euery man according to his good gifts, and so yee shall euer remaine most deare, and most woorthie to be most deare Ladies.

Emilia.

Is the Duke returnd from hunting yet?

Maq.

They say, not yet.

Bean.

Tis now in mid'st of day.

Em.

How beares the Dutches with this blemish now?

Maq.

Faith boldly, strongly defyes defame, as one that haz a Duke to her father. And theres a note to you, be sure of a stout friend in a corner, that may alwayes awe your husband. Marke the hauiour of the Dutches now, she dares defame, cryes, Duke do what thou canst, ile quite mine honor: nay, as one confirmed in her owne vertue a∣gainst ten thousand mouthes that mutter her disgrace, shees presently for daunces.

Enter Ferrar.

Bean.

For daunces?

Maq.

Most true.

Enusia.

Most strange, see, heeres my seruant yong Fer∣rard: How many seruants thinkst thou I haue, Maqua∣relle?

Maq.

The more the merier: twas well sayd, vse your seruants as you doe your smocks, haue many, vse one, and change often, for that's most sweete and courtlike.

Ferrar.

Saue y•…•…e fayre Ladies, is the Duke returned?

Bean.

Sweet Sir, no voyce of him as yet in Court.

Fer.

Tis very strange.

Bean.

And how like you my seruant, Maquarelle?

Maq.

I thinke hee could hardly drawe Ulisses bowe, but by my fidelity, were his nose narrower, his eyes broa∣der, his hands thinner, his lippes thicker, his legges big∣ger, his feete lesser, his haire blacker, and his teeth whiter, hee were a tollerable sweete youth ifaith. And hee will come to my Chamber, I will reade him the fortune of his beard.

Cornets sound.

Fer.

Not yet returnd I feare, but The Dutches approcheth.

Enter Mendozo supporting the Dutches: Guerrino, the Ladyes that are on the Stage rise: Ferrard Vshers in the Dutches, and then takes a Lady to treade a measure.