_Mon_. But this belongs unto the _Saxons_ Duke, By the decease of the departed Bishop. _Val_. Feare not, thou art as safe within my house As if perculliz'd in a wall of brasse. Wheres _Vandermas_? _Enter Vandermas_. _Van_. Madam, did you call? _Mon_. What noble man is that, a sutor to you? _Val_. An excellent Pander, a rare doore-keeper.[183] _Mon_. I had thought he had bin a gentleman at least. _Val_. Because of his attire? _Mon_. True. _Val_. O the attire In these corrupted daies is no true signe To shew the gentleman; peasants now weare robes, In the habilments of noblemen. The world's grown naught, such judgement then is base, For Hares and Asses weare the lion's case.[184] _Mon_. 'Tis very costly and exceeding rich. _Val_. Ritches to me are like trash to the poore, I have them in abundance; gold's my slave, I keep him prisoner in a three-fold chest And yet his kindred daily visit me. _Mon_. Lord, how diligent Is this rich clothed fellow. _Val_. Were he proud And should but dare to stand still when I call, I'de run him th[o]rough with a killing frowne. _Mon_. Why then belike his service is for love. _Val_. Why so are all the servants that attend mee. They keepe themselves in satin, velvets, gold, At their owne charges, and are diligent Daies, moneths, and yeeres, to gaine an amorous smile. Looke on my face with an indifferent eye, And thou shalt finde more musicke in my lookes Then in _Amphions_ Lute or _Orpheus_ Harpe; Mine eye consists of numbers like the soule, And if there be a soule tis in mine ey; For, of the harmony these bright starres make, I comprehend the formes of all the world; The story of the Syrens in my voyce I onely verified, for Millions stand Inchanted when I speake, and catch my words As they were orient pearle to adorn their eares; _Circe_ is but a fable, I transforme The vertuous, valiant, and the most precise, Into what forme of minde my fancie please. Thou might'st bee proud, great Lord, of my abundance, For in this beautie I shall more renowne Our noble progenie then all the pennes Of the best Poets that ere writ of men. Unto your health a health! let Musique sound, [_Musick_. That what I taste in Musique may be drown'd. So fill more wine, we use to drinke up all; Wine makes good blood and cheeres the heart withal. _Van_. Madam, at such time as I heard you call, A gentleman, it seemes of good discent, Humblie did crave accesse unto your honor. _Valen_. What did he give? _Van_. A brace of bags of gold. _Valen_. He shall have libertie to enter straight. But first inrich the chamber with perfumes; Burne choice _Arabian_ Drugs more deare then Waters distil'd out of the spirit of Flowers; And spread our costly Arras to the eye. Myself sufficiently doe shine in jems; Where such faire coated Heraulds doe proceed, It seemes he is honorable and of noble fame. _Mon_. Shall I behold this sutor?