[Exit Aurelia.
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?