[_Exeunt Suitors._ _Mal._ Mendoza, hark ye, hark ye. You are a treacherous villain: God b' wi' ye! _Men._ Out, you base-born rascal! 310 _Mal._ We are all the sons of heaven, though a tripe-wife were our mother: ah, you whoreson, hot-reined he-marmoset! Ægisthus! didst ever hear of one Ægisthus? _Men._ Gisthus? _Mal._ Ay, Ægisthus: he was a filthy incontinent fleshmonger, such a one as thou art. _Men._ Out, grumbling rogue! _Mal._ Orestes, beware Orestes! _Men._ Out, beggar! _Mal._ I once shall rise. 320 _Men._ Thou rise! _Mal._ Ay, at the resurrection. No vulgar seed but once may rise and shall; No king so huge but 'fore he die may fall. [_Exit._ _Men._ Now, good Elysium! what a delicious heaven is it for a man to be in a prince's favour! O sweet God! O pleasure! O fortune! O all thou best of life! what should I think, what say, what do to be a favourite, a minion? to have a general timorous respect observe a man, a stateful silence in his presence, solitariness in his absence, a confused hum and busy murmur of obsequious suitors training him; the cloth held up, and way proclaimed before him; petitionary vassals licking the pavement with their slavish knees, whilst some odd palace-lampreels that engender with snakes, and are full of eyes on both sides, with a kind of insinuated[384] humbleness, fix all their delights[385] upon his brow. O blessed state! what a ravishing prospect doth the Olympus of favour yield! Death, I cornute the duke! Sweet women! most sweet ladies! nay, angels! by heaven, he is more accursed than a devil that hates you, or is hated by you; and happier than a god that loves you, or is beloved by you: you preservers of mankind, life-blood of society, who would live, nay, who can live without you? O paradise! how majestical is your austerer presence! how imperiously chaste is your more modest face! but, O, how full of ravishing attraction is your pretty, petulant, languishing, lasciviously-composed countenance! these amorous smiles, those soul-warming sparkling glances, ardent as those flames that singed the world by heedless Phaeton! in body how delicate,[386] in soul how witty, in discourse how pregnant, in life how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how sociable, and in night how---- O pleasure unutterable! indeed, it is most certain, one man cannot deserve only to enjoy a beauteous woman: but a duchess! in despite of Phoebus, I'll write a sonnet instantly in praise of her. 357 [_Exit._