Rinald. What was 't?
Frig. The Prologue presenting four Triumphs, made but three legs to the King: a three-legged Prologue, 't was monstrous.
Rinald. 'T had been more monstrous to have had a four-legg'd one. Peace, the King speaks.
Em. Here was a woman, Isabel.
Isa. I, my Lord,
But that she told a lye to vex her husband;
Therein sh[e] fail'd.
Em. She serv'd him well enough;
He that was so much man, yet would be cast
To jealousie for her integrity.
This teacheth us, the passion of love
Can fight with Soldiers, and with Scholars too.
Isa. In Martius, clemencie and valour shown,
In the other, courage and humanitie;
And therefore in the Triumph they were usher'd
By clemencie and valour.
Em. Rightly observ'd,
As she by chastitie and constancie;
What hurt's now in a Play, against which some rail
So vehemently? thou and I, my love,
Make excellent use methinks: I learn to be
A lawful lover void of jealousie,
And thou a constant wife. Sweet Poetry's
A flower, where men, like Bees and Spiders, may
Bear poison, or else sweets and Wax away.
Be venom-drawing Spiders they that will;
I'll be the Bee, and suck the honey still. [Flourish.
Cupid descends.
Cupid. Stay, clouds, ye rack too fast: bright Phœbus see,
Honor has triumph'd with fair Chastity:
Give Love now leave, in purity to shew
Unchaste affe[ct]ions flie not from his bowe.
Produce the sweet example of your youth.
Whilst I provide a Triumph for your Truth. [Flourish.