Dor. Rise, noble Roman, belov'd Sophocles,
Take to thy brest thy friend.
Mar. And to thy heart
Thy matchless wife: Heaven has not stuff enough
To make another such: for if it could,
Martius would marry too. For thy blest sake
(O thou infinitie of excellence)
Henceforth in mens discourse Rome shall not take
The wall of Athens, as 'tofore. But when
In their fair honors we to speak do come,
We'll say 'T was so in Athens, and in Rome.
[Exeun[t] in pomp.
Diana descends.
Diana. Honor set ope thy gates, and with thee bring
My servant and thy friend, fair Dorigen:
Let her triumph, with her, her Lord, and friend,
Who, though misled, still honor was their end. [Flourish.
Enter the Shew of Honors Triumph; a great flourish of Trumpets and Drums within; Then enter a noise of Trumpets sounding cheerfully. Then follows an armed Knight bearing a Crimson Banneret in hand, with the inscription Valour: by his side a Lady, bearing a Watchet Banneret, the inscription Clemencie: next Martius and Sophocles with Coronets. Next, two Lades, one bearing a white Banneret, the inscription Chastity: the other a black, the inscription Constancie. Then Dorigen crown'd. Last, a Chariot drawn by two Moors, in it a Person crown'd, with a Scepter: on the top, in an antick Scutcheon, is written Honor. As they pass over, Diana ascends.
Rinald. How like you it?
Frig. Rarely; so well, I would they would do it again. How many of our wives now adays would deserve to triumph in such a Chariot?
Rinald. That's all one; you see they triumph in Caroches.
Frig. That they do, by the mass; but not all neither; many of them are content with Carts. But Seignior, I have now found out a great absurditie i'faith.