Maci monologue (Act 3) — Every Man out of His Humour

What's that he said? by heaven, I mark'd him not: My thoughts and I were of another world. I was admiring mine own outside here, To think what privilege and palm it bears Here, in the court! be a man ne'er so vile, In wit, in judgment, manners, or what else; If he can purchase but a silken cover, He shall not only pass, but pass regarded: Whereas, let him be poor, and meanly clad, Though ne'er so richly parted, you shall have A fellow that knows nothing but his beef, Or how to rince his clammy guts in beer, Will take him by the shoulders, or the throat, And kick him down the stairs. Such is the state Of virtue in bad clothes! -- ha, ha, ha, ha! That raiment should be in such high request! How long should I be, ere I should put off To the lord chancellor's tomb, or the shrives' poste? By heav'n, I think, a thousand, thousand year. His gravity, his wisdom, and his faith To my dread sovereign, graces that survive him, These I could well endure to reverence, But not his tomb; no more than I'd commend The chapel organ for the gilt without, Or this base-viol, for the varnish'd face.