How fortune dotes on impudence! I am in private the adopted son 160 Of yon good prince: I must be duke; why, if I must, I must. Most silly lord, name me! O heaven! I see God made honest fools to maintain crafty knaves. The duchess is wholly mine too; must kill her husband To quit her shame; much![447] then marry her: ay. O, I grow proud in prosperous treachery! As wrestlers clip, so I'll embrace you all, Not to support, but to procure your fall. _Enter_ MALEVOLE. _Mal._ God arrest thee! 170 _Men._ At whose suit? _Mal._ At the devil's. Ah, you treacherous, damnable monster, how dost? how dost, thou treacherous rogue? Ah, ye rascal! I am banished the court, sirrah. _Men._ Prithee, let's be acquainted; I do love thee, faith. _Mal._ At your service, by the Lord, la: shall's go to supper? Let's be once drunk together, and so unite a most virtuously-strengthened friendship: shall's, Huguenot? shall's? 180 _Men._ Wilt fall upon my chamber to-morrow morn? _Mal._ As a raven to a dunghill. They say there's one dead here; pricked for the pride of the flesh. _Men._ Ferneze: there he is; prithee, bury him. _Mal._ O, most willingly: I mean to turn pure Rochelle[448] churchman, I. _Men._ Thou churchman! why, why? _Mal._ Because I'll live lazily, rail upon authority, deny kings' supremacy in things indifferent, and be a pope in mine own parish. 190 _Men._ Wherefore dost thou think churches were made? _Mal._ To scour plough-shares: I ha'[449] seen oxen plough up altars; _et nunc seges ubi Sion fuit_.[450] _Men._ Strange! _Mal._ Nay, monstrous! I ha' seen a sumptuous steeple turned to a stinking privy; more beastly, the sacredest place made a dogs' kennel; nay, most inhuman, the stoned coffins of long-dead Christians burst up, and made hogs' troughs: _hic finis Priami_.[451] Shall I ha' some sack and cheese at thy chamber? Good night, good mischievous incarnate devil; good night, Mendoza; ah, ye inhuman villain, good night! night, fub. 202 _Men._ Goodnight: to-morrow morn? _Mal._ Ay, I will come, friendly damnation, I will come. [_Exit_ MENDOZA.] I do descry cross-points; honesty and courtship straddle as far asunder as a true Frenchman's legs. _Fer._ O! _Mal._ Proclamations! more proclamations! _Fer._ O! a surgeon! 210 _Mal._ Hark! lust cries for a surgeon. What news from Limbo? how does[452] the grand cuckold, Lucifer? _Fer._ O, help, help! conceal and save me. [FERNEZE _stirs, and_ MALEVOLE _helps him up_.